More Dreams

Another dream log. This one was very unexpected.

I think the first part of the dream had to do with anxiety over my upcoming kidney stone surgery (26 Dec). It kept alternating between this grim city where the poor were being swept away by heavy rains, and a pleasant resort with many people (most of them older) who were going to hold hands and embrace death together. They wanted me there too. We held hands in this sand ampitheater just above a narrow beach. A wave came crashing toward us, massive and frightening. Then out of the wave came a bunch of cheering people and the wave itself disintegrated. I think they were the souls of the dead come to meet their friends and family and take them home. But there was nobody that I recognized.

The next thing I knew I was back in that dreary city next to a manhole cover. Water stood about an inch high above it. I heard the sound of water rushing beneath it, then a thud and muffled screaming. Then blood welled up from under the manhole cover.

Then the dream switched gears again. I was talking to someone and I told them my name.

Theysaid “Oh! You’re Philip K Dick’s daughter!” and I was stunned. I think all I managed was “What!?”

Sure enough, in a magazine from 1980, there was my name in an article about him. Even in the dream I knew this was odd because I was born in 1984.

But somehow I arranged to see him. As in a previous dream, he was still alive and remarried but this time, he was living in a very nice house. We didn’t talk that much but I had the expectation that I’d be back, though why he seemed to think I was his daughter was a question I wanted to ask.

This was a curious sort of thing to dream because I have a good relationship with my father and never felt the need for a father figure. Indeed, during the dream I felt more perplexed than warm.

But I wonder too if this isn’t some harbinger, especially paired with the dreams earlier and another set of dreams from some months ago where I went walking down a beautiful country road carrying my cat who died last February of kidney troubles. I fear I may soon fall prey to complications from the surgery.

It’s not like I can opt out of the surgery either. This stone is big and it’s got my left kidney blown up like a water balloon. It won’t resolve itself; I’ll die of sepsis if I don’t have this surgery.

Please, if you are a person of faith, pray for me. I’m not liking these omens.

Things Looking Up Finally

So some updates to my present life that I’m very pleased to be making:

First, I’ve managed to broker a truce with the roommate.  I’ll never get all of the back rent for September and October, but because I had originally told him to move out at the end of November anyway, he has one final chance to show he’s sincere about keeping his share of things paid up.  If he doesn’t pay, he’s gone by the 30 and if he does pay, he can stay on until December.  If he can keep up his end of things for the rest of the year, then things will be just fine.

Second, I got my letters of recommendation sorted for my surgery.  My transition is nearly at a successful end.  I’ve also got an appointment with the surgeon to discuss details.  I thought I’d be scared, intimidated, or change my mind but no; not now.  I had tried to force myself not to want it because I thought it was something I could never have, but now that it’s within my grasp I find it’s on my mind every waking hour.  I’ve very nearly got myself physically and socially feeling like everything fits for once.  Unless I have serious doubts about the surgeon paid for by the Oregon Health Plan, I’m not backing down.

Finally, On 1 November I’ve got a portion of my old automobilia collection (mostly mint-in-box diecast cars) going up for auction.  It’s stuff I left behind at my father’s place in South Carolina that I have neither the money nor interest to ship out to Oregon.  The auctioneer is an old family friend in Charleston who is very excited to sell what I’m offering.

It isn’t so much that I outgrew my interest as the fact that it’s part of a past that I’m no longer keen on clinging to.  But the collection I built up before about age 21 or 22 was big and valuable enough that I’m thinking I could easily go from collecting to dealing with the stock I’ve got.

The ones I’m selling off in the near future are newer stock (90s-2000s with most from around 1995 to 1999) plus a few other random items.  I don’t expect to get more than about $800-1500 for all of it though there are a few items that have a chance of bumping the value up into the $2500 range.

I also have some very rare items from the 50s through the 70s.  These include some of the very earliest Hot Wheels cars from 1968, near-mint 1950s Rod and Custom magazines, and some dealer promo models from the 1950s.  That part of the collection is probably worth somewhere in the tens of thousands.

I’ll keep the really valuable vintage items for now.  I’ll use some of the money from selling the newer items to buy some more vintage stock.  Once I’ve acquired a large enough vintage stock, I’m going to have another auction that will leave our auctioneer friend breathless!  I’m clued in enough from years of collecting on where to get bargains, so I’m confident I’ll be able to pick the very best items with a few hundred in capital to start with.  After that, maybe I’ll use the seed money from that auction to become a picker.  It’s a good business if you know what you’re doing and I think my experience will be very helpful, since I spent so much of my youth in antique stores and learned a great deal about the antique trade in general.

Exactly why this never occurred to me, I’ll never know.  What better career for someone who lives in the past than to buy and sell artifacts from it?

Meanwhile In The Present…

Lately, a major development has been going on in my life which I would like to share here.

As I’ve briefly mentioned, I am transgender in this life- a strange stroke of fortune if there ever was one- and I am actively transitioning male to female.

So far it has gone about as well as one could reasonably expect, barring some disappointments with laser hair removal.  I’ve been on hormones now for more than 2 1/2 years, and I’ve had my name and ID legally changed to reflect my new status.

Now, I’m eyeing the final finishing touches: re-attempting hair removal and taking that final, certain step to ensure that I will live the rest of this present life irreversibly as a woman.  I am referring, of course, to full genital surgery.  I’ve been thinking about it now for the better part of three years and I have not, in all this time, soured on the idea.

I have obtained the two required letters- one from an attending physician and one from a board-certified psychologist with whom I have a working relationship.  She is aware of my past life claims and we have talked at length about my memories and how they have shaped my view of the world.

Today I made arrangements for a local clinic to refer me via the Oregon Health Plan to a doctor for consultation.  Whether or not I choose to go through with this operation will depend largely on the skill and experience of whatever doctors are made available to me through the state health plan.  I am aware of the risks and I will not take any cavalier chances on a doctor whom I suspect may turn out to be a butcher; better to live my life hiding male parts and still able to enjoy that life to some lesser degree than to be taken in by a bad surgeon and live the nightmare of severe complications.

Only the prospect of complications scares me; if I could go into the operating theater with a 100% guarantee of a favorable outcome I would not hesitate and I would not be the least bit deterred by the permanence of the change.  My body has already undergone permanent changes on HRT; I am past the point where things like sterility and breast growth would be likely to reverse themselves if I were to stop HRT.  The process of chemical feminization has done nothing in its due course but heighten my enjoyment of life that much more; I don’t anticipate that a successful operation will be anything but an improvement to that end.

This blog may be largely about the highs and lows in my past lives but in my present life, I have been overall very fortunate.  Transitioning male to female has taught me so much about life, love, gender, sex, philosophy, religion, and even about myself and I hope that the lessons I have learned will stay with me until such time as I can transcend the cycle of reincarnation altogether and become reunited with pleroma.

Until then, I will move forward with what the wheel has spun: to be born a man and die a woman.  I will accept this as my destiny gladly and with joy in my heart.

Dysphoria Worsening

Friends, it’s time to admit that my gender dysphoria is starting to worsen again.

Right now, I’m broke and torn between using whatever money I can scrape together on electrolysis for my face, which is important to passing, or some amount of surgery, which is becoming increasingly important to me to feel like I’ve finished what I started.

Either way, I’m in a bad state and it’s getting worse.  I’m at about the level of functioning I was at toward the end of 2010, not quite at the low I had hit in 2011-2012.  It will, however, be a long time before I can afford either procedure.

The temptation to step forward and identify myself in a bid for help is immense but I made a promise to someone I cared deeply about in my previous life.  And for what it’s worth, I still care about her.

In the mean time, I have never hoped as fervently in the course of my current life that the quality of my work would speak for itself and that I would sell enough books to be able to afford the cost of what most psychiatrists deem a medical necessity for someone in my position.

As to whether or not this will trigger more memories, my current feeling is that the well is dry but I’m a couple years of hardship from getting to the point I was at in 2012.