Sweet Dreams

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Fais de Beaux Rêves
(Sweet Dreams)



by Andrea Lena DiMaggio


The Marceau Home, late August

Davey stood in the bedroom doorway and trembled. Lisa, her mom and her sis were away for the week, and he had the run of the house after volunteering to feed their setter Rusty. He stepped into the bedroom and closed the door, almost feeling the need for extra privacy even while being alone. No need to draw the blinds either, since the house was surrounded on all four sides by woods other than the driveway leading up the hill. He closed them anyway, leaving the room darkened other than the slits of light from the mostly narrowed blinds.

“I’m ...I'm Lisa,” he stammered softly as he walked to her bed. They’d talked about this only twice, with Lisa left upset over her boyfriend’s interests.

“Not gonna happen, Davey,” she had said finally. “I like you…maybe even love you, and you can do whatever you want when I’m not around. I get it. But I....

He sighed. All the stupid stories were really so far-fetched and foolish. But it ate at him. With everyone gone for a whole week, he had all the time to at least try it…once? He walked into her bathroom, and minutes later he was sitting on the divan by her bed.

“I’m ...I'm Lisa,” he repeated. Maybe it WAS the appeal of the far-fetched, but he resembled her at least in stature. Other than brown hair instead of Auburn, he was actually a reasonable facsimile of her.

“Might as well go for it,” he muttered as he stood up. Pulling up the pleated wood skirt, he tucked the blouse under and zipped the skirt up. The tights were dark and hid what little hair he had on his legs. Slipping into Navy flats, he walked over to her closet and retrieved her Blue school blazer. He opened the closet door wider and surveyed his image in the door mirror.

“Wow….I AM Lisa,” he remarked.

“You certainly are,” a voice said from the now opened bedroom door. He turned around to find his girlfriend leaning against the doorway, her arms folded in what looked like a very angry pose.

“Don’t stop on my account,” said as she walked to him.

“Here…let me help.” she said as she grabbed the uniform tie from the hanger on the closet rod. A moment later Davey stood complete, resplendent in the St. Catherine’s High School uniform.

“I…I…”

“Save the histrionics, Davey. I’ve read the blog you thought I’d never find. SomedayLisa? Seriously? I’m flattered. I kinda like the homage, but you really need another name.”

“N..name?”

“Well, I really can’t fuh... kiss myself, can I?” She grabbed him by both shoulders and glared.

“Nah… Let’s put Lisa away for the day, shall we?” She turned him to face the mirror once again.

“I think Connie is a nice name. Do you like Connie?” He nodded absentmindedly. It was the not knowing what would come next that fueled his nervousness. He began to shake, and tears spilled off of his face onto his shoes.

“When we talked? I hadn’t read your latest blog.

“’I wish we could make out like two girls.’ That’s really why I came home just now… And I remembered the look on your face when we talked. It wasn’t shame about you…or even disappointment.”

“I…I should never have said anything.” He walked over to the divan and sat down, covering his face as he wept.

“Connie? Oh fuck….I wish I were dead.” He managed to gasp out between sobs. A few seconds later he felt her hip shoving him sideways as she sat down.

“I’m not saying I understand all of this, but you’ve really been my best friend since the divorce. Mommy has tried but she’s so hurt with everything….” She rubbed his back, evoking a wince.

"And I realized you weren't hurt... You thought you hurt me,"

“Stop, Leese…” He went to pull away. She grabbed him and turned him to face her.

“I’m sorry teasing about the name, Davey. I am so sorry.” Lisa stood up and paced slowly back and forth, her own tears leaving a wet trail on the carpet as she waved her arms.

“You can’t replace Connie. She’s moved on. But I’m here with you.” He shuddered at the name of Lisa's former girlfriend.

“I…I wasn’t… I just wanted to be close…so maybe somebody would understand. I…” Davey shook his head and hit his thigh hard, angry at his behavior... his choices. He looked down at his...Lisa's clothes and frowned.

“You want to BE me?” Lisa asked as she sat down once again at his side.

“B,,be you? No, Leese… Be LIKE you. The best friend I ever had.”

“I guess that’s okay?” She sighed.wondering where this was going.

“Oh…okay. Listen, Davey? About …you know, fucking? I mean… I was not very nice just then, and that was really a mean thing to say. I’m sorry.”

“I…I know… life isn’t one of those stupid stories. Girls…well you like me as a friend…a good friend, even, but that’s not…”

“I guess? It’s not what we’re all about. I know. But we ARE friends…. Fuck, it’s like a Mr. Rogers thing…we’re sticking together, right?” She looked away. As confused as she felt, there was a huge part of her that did not want to lose her attraction to the boy.

“Uh…yeh...yes? I really should…I should be going…” He stood up and started to remove the jacket. She grabbed his wrist and gently led him to the bathroom door.

“If we’re going to figure this out, maybe taking it slow means we don’t suddenly stop, right?” He looked her with a puzzled expression.

“GO…brush your teeth for starters, okay? You really drink too much coffee. Do your… business… Take your time and here…’ She grabbed a tube of clear lip gloss and placed in his right palm before folding his fingers over.

“For starters. “ She noticed he was wearing an old Casio watch of hers on his left wrist.

“Gimme ten minutes either way and then knock to come back in, okay?” He nodded slowly and she trundled him through the bathroom door.

“Ten…make that fifteen.

A short while later the anticipated knock came at the door.

“Come ihhhh-in,” Lisa said in a sing-song reply. Davey opened the door slowly and started to shake once again; nervous anticipation was thankfully followed by swift relief as he eyed Lisa standing in the middle of the room.

“Ta DA!” she said with a laugh, followed by a curtsy. She was clad in the same uniform as her boyfriend, or rather girlfriend, except that her shoes had a two inch heel, owing to the fact that Davey was wearing her school shoes.

“I think we oughta stick with Davey for now. I mean…if you do …you know…. You should take your time…be who YOU are.” Her words were met with a frown.

“Oh, honey…I am so honored that you used my name…really. But it’s time for you to find yourself.”

She picked up her phone from her dresser and hit the Google App.

“I looked it up… This is streaming on Amazon… We can watch it and maybe just relax? Nina and Mommy won’t be back til Saturday, so it’s just you and me…”

“I….”

“Call your Mom and say you’re going to stay here to keep an eye on Rusty. It’ll be okay.”

“O…okay…” He began to cry. She gathered him in her arms and stood only a wee bit on tiptoe to kiss the top of his head.

“Come on… we can order some Thai and watch this movie… It’ll be fun.” She smiled what was really intended to be more than a sisterly smile as she led him downstairs.

Later...

Two figures were asleep on the couch; their uniforms abandoned for sleepwear. Lisa wore an Apricot colored ankle-length cotton-lined satin nightgown. Davey had wanted to wear the matching teal number, but Lisa insisted that he wear her floor-length Cobalt Blue satin gown.

“Might as well go for it,” she said.

“Mmmmm,” Davey murmered in his sleep. That not-so-predictable non-sexual satisfaction that only comes from a place of safety. Lisa woke and rubbed her eyes before sitting up. She grabbed the remote and was going to exit the movie but stopped as she read the title. The whole video was in English subtitles, but being a Marceau, her French was more than serviceable. She laughed.

Un Nouvell Amie.” She looked over at the couch and laughed softly as she heard the still content coos coming from Davey. And her grin widened into a very knowing smile.

“Fuck, yeah… The New Girlfriend.”

She got up and grabbed a plaid wool blanket from the hall closet. Draping it over the sleeping Davey, she leaned close and kissed him on the forehead before walking upstairs to bed.

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As she got to the top of the stairs she laughed softly and said,

"Fais de beaux rêves, ma chère petite amie… sweet dreams."



Theme from Un Nouvelle Amie
Composed by Philippe Rombi

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Un Nouvelle Amie

laika's picture

Beautiful little hopeful story. Hey, it can happen!

Given how her wife is treating her since coming out my trans neighbor Katie says a woman accepting her boyfriend or husband as female can never happen in real life, only in those "stupid stories" (like the ones of mine I've been showing her); but occasionally it really does happen.

Back in the 70's I knew a free spirited older couple (50-ish, far younger than I am now) whose bedroom I notice had two of everything girly hanging side by side, from dresses to nightgowns to makeup in the bathroom. Amazing how many visitors were completely oblivious to the implications of this but to me they were obvious, especially when I noticed the husband didn't have a single hair on his legs. First trans-person I ever met in RL. I pointed out the obvious and asked, "Are you a girl?" And Pete/Petra confessed that sometimes she was.

Then with an interested leer on her face the wife Phyllis asked me, "Are you?" Like we could have some girly menage au fun (they were totally like this- both artists + "counterculture" to the max, which is why I loved hanging out + going to their parties, that showed me things I could barely dream were possible..) and I FREAKED OUT, made some excuse and split. I was in my 20's, and cuter than I'll ever be again, but such a closeted chickenshit!!

Anyway, a sweet dream of a story and THANK YOU for reminding me of that movie Un Nouvelle Amie, my library has it and now I have it on hold to watch. If they ever open...
~hugs, Veronica
.

(That was is a true story that I've never shared with anyone...
Maybe someday I'll fictionalize it like I WISH it would've gone down.)

Cis woman accepting her partner going MTF

I see the oft-repeated idea that the scenario of a cis woman accepting and embracing her once-male partner's transition to female never happens in real life - but my and my life partner's experience is a direct counterpoint to this assertion.

To put the matter in context, I am extremely monogamous: my current cis-female life partner is the only woman I have ever known intimately, it is a "till death do you part" kind of deal, thus to me she represents the entire cis-F sex as a whole - I don't know any different and have absolutely no desire to seek anything on the side. As I understand it, women do NOT intrinsically want sex: to a woman, sex is something she has to give to a man in order to please him (keep his financial support and whatnot), but in a woman's ideal world, sex would not exist at all. (Unless she wants to get pregnant - but if she already has two offspring from a previous marriage, that urge has already been satisfied.) In the beginning of our relationship (15 y ago), she made it very clear to me that if I demanded sex, she would give it to me, but it would come at the expense of emotional connection being taken away, i.e., it would be just physical and nothing else. Such terms were absolutely not acceptable to me: for me love and emotional connection are infinitely more important than sex, thus I never pressed the sex issue on her, and our relationship has been sans-sex all along - or more precisely, we get very intimate everywhere else, but nothing involving "parts". In our entire relationship of 15 y and counting, we have only made one attempt ever at sexual intercourse, and that attempt failed when my parts refused to perform: my heart and soul were all there, but the "parts" weren't interested at all.

Prior to my MTF transition, I was not male but pseudomale. I define pseudomale as someone who is AMAB, goes by he/him/his pronouns, male legal gender and name etc, but has absolutely no interest in anything manly or masculine: physically weaker than a lot of women, terrified of men in general because he got nothing but bullying and abuse from them, zero interest in sports or anything physical, just a walking brain on top of a stick figure living a genderless or neuter existence, interested only in math, science, engineering, computers, research, writing etc, nothing stereotypically masculine, but nothing stereotypically feminine either. And rather crucially, a pseudomale is heterosexual, or more precisely, hetero-romantic. (I also suspect that most people who self-identify as incels or MRAs, basically anti-Chads, are probably pseudomale like I was prior to transition, rather than truly male, but I digress.) Prior to my transition, my dearest life partner would often express how happy she was with me and how she liked me so much better than her previous men, in a major part because I never pressed her for sex. And because she is my one and only experience with the female of the species, I can never understand or relate to stories where a woman wants to have sex with a man - whaat?

So all those trans women who say that their cis-F partner is not accepting of their transition, saying "I married a man and I want a man", that kind of thing, I have a genuine and sincere question for you: was that woman giving you sex (and doing so without imposing unacceptable terms like taking away emotional connection) when you were male or pseudomale prior to transition? If she did, then why transition away from that arrangement? And if she didn't, then her saying that she wants a man is self-contradictory, and you should call her out on that hypocrisy: "honey, how can you possibly say that you want me as a man and not a woman when you are so totally disinterested in sex?"

Yes, I am still technically virgin, given that my little part never penetrated anyone - the one and only attempt I ever made in my entire life (at age 32) did not result in successful penetration, as the little part was absolutely not interested in playing its role. And given that I already got my SRS approval letters in hand, as well as the needed money, and just waiting for international travel to Thailand to reopen, sex in the male role is something I will never experience - which is totally fine with me.

I honestly have no idea how my life would have turned out if I was with someone who actively wanted sex and who would hold my hand and teach me how to do it, something I never learned or understood. I don't know if I would have happily remained pseudomale, or if I would have repeated the tragic story we hear all the time where the trans woman comes out after decades of denial and pseudomale life, marriage falls apart, etc. In a lot of those tragic real-life stories the trans woman's life of denial was not just marriage, but a marriage with children - and one has to have sex in order to create kids, so those trans women weren't totally denied sex by their cis-F partners when they lived as pseudomale, right?

But the only life I know is the one I got, the one I am living, and for me the decision to transition was a no-brainer: since I wasn't getting any sex in the pseudomale role anyway, what did I have to lose by transitioning to female and killing those already-non-functioning parts with estrogen, anti-androgens and eventually surgery? If my partner tried telling me "I don't want you to transition, I want you to remain a man", I would have responded that asking me to remain male while not having any sex would be a hypocrisy - but she never said that. Instead she supported my transition fully and whole-heartedly, began to see herself as lesbian after I transitioned, and here we are, waiting for my finishing surgery. We never formally tied the not, but we've been thinking about doing it after my surgery: I want to marry the love of my life, I want to do it as a woman, in a wedding dress, and I want to be anatomically female underneath my wedding dress, so our marriage as two women will be real, not just playing dress-up. My dearest significant other is on the same page with me on these thoughts.

Lovely Fairytale

joannebarbarella's picture

One of those "if only" scenarios. Very sweet.

Ouch...!!!

That seriously hurt my sweet tooth!!!

Da Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrat