We all dream…. Every night…. It is an indisputable fact that goes with being human…. Sometimes we remember the stories that unfold in during our deepest sleep, and perhaps more often, we don’t

I am prone to visceral, vivid dreams. Complex, real, and frequently odd, which I guess is no surprise.

Last night I found myself in Tollesbury, in a small house, full of Love, Art, Stories and Laughter. The house belonged to my other Parents, My beloved In-Laws Peter and Beryl.

The house  was of course just as I remember it, mainly because my dream was constructed from the memories of countless visits there. Visits that were defined by the Chilean Wine, hushed listening to fine recordings of  Prokofiev, and stories that would either make us all laugh so hard it hurt, or think so deeply we cried.

Peter and Beryl were from a generation that did not find it easy to understand our  twenty first  century life. Many an evening I would listen to lengthy and well thought out monologues about Race, Gender and Sexuality. it was open season, and they shared their opinions on these matters with passion.

My dream found me in the guest room of Peter and Beryls house. Jane was there and encouraging me into a dress, belt and heels for dinner. Downstairs my in laws were preparing a roast dinner, a treat surpassed only by one of Beryl’s pies…

As the scenario unfolded further, it became apparent to me they were un aware of my transition and this was my debut for them…..

Alas they passed away well before my transition, and we never had to deal with this situation. The chance to share that side of myself with two people whom I loved dearly has gone. How that conversation would have gone, we will never know,  and I can’t begin to guess… My dream of course more than made up for this. Sweating, shaking and disturbed I arrived  back in Busselton in the early hours of this morning and in a blind panic.

What has happened however is that this dream, has lead me to consider the relationships with my family, especially my Father. Dad is still not aware that I have transitioned. His memory may be failing but he surely cannot have forgotten those moments from my childhood when my Gender Incongruence became manifest…..But how would he cope with my news. Should I care ? Does he have a right to know ? He has long talked about visiting us in Australia , and I am pretty sure  I have written before that I feel bad for finding reasons for this not to happen.

Inside of me is a voice desperate to tell him this is who I am, this is who I always was. I want to yell to him…

“See me…Understand me…Know that this is my truth.”

There is another voice, it is the voice of my compassion, and it tells me to remain calm. Listen to him, Love him, and leave him to a reality he can just about cope with.

We all dream…. Every night….and tonight I’d quite like some answers instead of more questions that I just can’t answer.