dream

I dreamed I was visiting a friend in the Boston area, whose home appeared to be a ground floor apartment in an existing structure, partially open to the elements. In his main living area, one entire wall was open, and the side walls and roof were staggered back, in a weirdly squared yet organic degree of openness. Bathing facilities were shared with other residents of the structure, and accessible by walking up a steeply inclined hill, then doubling back on a makeshift seeming wooden bridge/platform, ending up roughly two stories above and to the left of my friend's area. The shower was open to the elements, but cut off from others unless they made the journey up the hill and across the bridge/platform.

I don't remember most of the dream, but there was a fairly steady stream of alterna-gendered queer folk (mostly on the "masculine" seeming end); it dawned on me that this was intentional, that my friend was trying to expose me, in a low key, unobtrusive, hopefully below my radar way, to a culture of "something else". At one point, I was to be taken to meet someone, an "elder" type, at a huge, dark, wooden coffee house built into the base of the gigantic tree that, it turned out, formed the core of the building structure in which my friend lived. I think the coffeehouse was closed, but that this elder was there to meet me. There were two others there, one someone on the masculine end of SE* who was to introduce me (a friend of my friend), and at the last minute, someone on the feminine end of SE who decided to come along (who may have been leaving the coffeehouse?), to help me in the process of meeting, even though not asked or planned. At that point, I heard a voiceover, describing the internal processes of the elder-type. She(? in a big, old, casually grand butch way) was noting my escorts, one being masculine, one being feminine, but "there was one other, about which she wasn't sure". I was aware that that meant me, which confused me, as I've got a fairly clear, if undesired, idea of how others view me. I could see her trying to sort me, fit me, almost as though there was a tilting of the head, and light from different sources highlighting me. She seemed intrigued, and pleased. Then, I woke up.



*Something Else

positive encounter with the insurance system

I've never liked health insurance, as a system. I've always distrusted the bureacracy, and hated the forms, procedures, etc, to the point that I want to throw up my hands and stomp off in a huff, as if denying myself access to benefits I've paid for will sure show them.

Last night, at the urging of my endocrinologist, I submitted my prescriptions via insurance and my local pharmacy, rather than ordering from overseas, and the economic differences were staggering: $14.00 per month, as opposed to $60-70.00 per month. Unlike my previous company insurance, this one makes no statement regarding trans services, so.. yay? At least it's cheaper, and it takes less time to get prescriptions.

unexpectedly bad walk

Walking after lunch, I was sad that I missed the rain, but looking forward to seeing and experiencing its aftereffects first hand; rushing water under the green, shady trees always makes me happy. However, early on I started to have misgivings. A fallen log that stuck out onto the path, which had been present for over a year, was pushed to the side. I immediately thought of the three fallen, but still living, trees that crossed the path for the last few months.

I love those trees. The first was easiest to pass, requiring only a slight stoop to slip under it. I lay an open hand against it every day in greeting, happy to see it. Today, it wasn't there; it had been cut up and unceremoniously tossed into the underbrush, its leaves still visibly green.

The second tree was around a bend, past the concrete underpass that only comes alive during or after rain. The way it fell, you had to thread between upper branches, and stoop slightly in the heart of them, surrounded by living, green leaves and their own shade: it was gone, too, sliced up and tossed aside.

Before I even got to where I knew the third tree would no longer be, I passed by where a gently arching tree used to reach over the path; it, too had been cut down. The third tree, which covered all of the path and was only passable by bending and weaving among many solid branches, was also gone. The clearing where the stream oxbowed into a living dam (a tree that blocked easy flow) had suffered as well; all lower, arching limbs and trunks had been cut away. The end result was a more open, less intimate, less beautiful space. The green dome I had come to know and love had been dismantled. I found myself sitting on the bench, crying, and apologizing, though for whom, and to what, I'm still not sure I can say.