"Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you
Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you
But in your dreams whatever they be
Dream a little dream of me..."
- Gus Kahn, Wilbur Schwandt and Fabian Andree

  

A Life Ever Changing

by Angel O'Hare

#43 Dream a Little Dream

  

Oh GEEZ! Barbara had a large manila envelope in her hands! She was smiling ear to ear and giggling as well! I knew what she had and I didn't like it much! Sylvia had given her some of the pictures! I made her promise never to show them to anyone. I don't think she meant it! I saw her keep her fingers crossed as she promised me and we all know what that means.

We were all very tired now as we drove back to my new home at Aunt Harriet's. What a day it was, so full of wonderful moments and joyful reunions. The car stuffed with new clothes and Barbara guarding her manila envelope filled with pictures of my childhood as Angel.

My thoughts turned to Auntie Helen and I must admit when she had called me Angel, I felt both love and sorrow. Love for her and the many true friends I did have back then. I belonged, I felt for the first time in my young life part of a group. Part of something wonderful and I had something to offer and give freely of myself. The real funny part of it all was that my success and all my friendships were as Angel, a ten-year old girl.

Ricky? Well, Ricky was a loner with few real friends. No friends as a matter of fact, not one boy my age would ever say they were my friend. If they did, their friends would turn on them in an instant. I know it happened a couple of times. One day I had a friend and the next he was calling me names right along with all the rest of the boys in the neighborhood. Life can be so cruel, yet turn right around and be as kind and loving as your mother.

The girls became my friends and so many of their mothers as well. Some used me and wanted me to be a girl. They did all sorts of things to trick me into girl's clothes and almost always had me in frilly looking aprons. I had made very good money mowing lawns and doing chores for the women of my neighborhood. That is, good money for a nine-year old. The trouble only started when I started doing chores inside the homes. That is where all the feminizations took place. (Those memories I might write about in another book. I will call it "ANGEL"). For now the present beckons me with all its might!

"I'm sorry, what did you say, Mrs. Nelson?" I was lost in thought.

Rita chuckled "I know that, Rachel, welcome back to earth."

We all laughed at that one and she went on.

"Helen and Sylvia are wonderful ladies, Rachel, and I am so glad we met them. I can see how much they love you and are part of your family. Your past was so full of happiness and joy when they were part of your life. Yes, there were the tough times, but they were there for you and your mother. Sylvia told me a story about a little boy who decided to become a little girl for his mother. He made that decision based on the knowledge that he could help her more by being a girl, and he gave his mother and little brother all his money without asking for anything in return."

I cut her off right there!

"I did get a lot of things, Mrs. Nelson. What did I need with all that money? I got to keep bunches of outfits and I had real friends. I belonged to a group for the first time and I was a real part in that group. I was very lucky I got to stay at Auntie Helen's home. I was protected from all the people who would have hurt me in oh, so many ways if they saw me walking around dressed as and being a girl. I could never have done that at my house. I was almost always dressed as Ricky and I was always a boy at home.

"I was given so much that I had craved and really needed. The funny thing about all of it was, I had to be a girl to receive it."

I laughed then and I mean I laughed! How ironic that just six years later here I am dressed and really looking and feeling like a girl once again. From Ricky to Angel to Ricky to Rich and now I am Rachel!

I have a future, a great job and many new friends thanks to Grace, my mother and Auntie Harriet. Oh and I can't forget Marjorie! She helped me back then and now as I look down at my lap, she sure did help me again! Giggle.

"OUCH! Barb, why did you hit me?"

"Well Rachel, you are laughing and giggling and I don't know why, so out with it!"

I told them and all of us had a good laugh!

I looked over at Barb and she was still guarding that envelope! She gave me that warning look. You know the one, the 'don't even think about it' look!

Oh well, I bet the girls club will be after me next!

Great, Auntie Harriet's and my new home at last!

As we pulled in my mom and Harriet came out to meet us. We hugged and kissed then, Barb launched into her never-ending stream, trying to tell them all about it in one breath! GEEZ!

I yelled! "HOLD IT!"

Everyone shut up and looked at me.

"We have a lot of stuff to unload; then and only then we can all have some coffee, sit down and relax as Barbara tells all!"

"OUCH! Darn it Barb, stop hitting me!"

Everyone started laughing, but not Barbara.

Each of us grabbed an armload and laid everything of mine out in the living room. Rita and I got the rest and returned only to find that the others were already in the kitchen! We could hear Barbara chatting away a mile a minute. We both looked at each other and started laughing. What the heck, off to the kitchen we went.

Oh GEEZ! Pictures! Those darn pictures were laid out on the kitchen table. My mom and Harriet had the biggest smiles! Barb was so excited she was pacing around hopping from one foot to another and talking a mile a minute trying to catch her breath every once in a while.

Rita and I helped ourselves to a cup of coffee and joined them. They all were having a great time and I was exhausted. I let them know I was headed for bed and after the hugs and kisses, off to bed I went.

Oh brother, I forgot. Remove the make-up and do the cleansing thing. Well, I had to pee anyway. It was then I decided to name my new female anatomy 'Kitten'. Well, it really isn't a real 'pussy' and I hate that word anyway, so I thought, yup, a kitten was appropriate. Giggle

I put everything away where it should be; the dirty unders into the 'to be hand washed' hamper and I hung up the rest of my clothes. I was exhausted and as soon as I completed what was needed, I fell onto my bed and fell asleep.

Dreams, the type of dreams are many and a whole science is devoted to them now. Dreams can be and often are so realistic yet hold their real meanings in a cryptic symbolism we must interpret somehow and in some way. Interpretation of anything has its drawbacks. We are forced to interpret many things in life and many of us wrongly interpret them over and over again.

Just look at the many different religions! Each has its own interpretations of the meanings of a book. Then you have the divisions of those same religions all based on different interpretations of that same book. Well, not really the same book because there are different versions of that book as well. Giggle.

Dreams and our interpretations of them are part of life's mysteries. Complicated is an understatement especially for the trans-gendered! We actually have two sets of dreams in one. Our true inner selves and our souls live in our dreams and so does the reality of our shells, our bodies.

Few of us were blessed with androgynous bodies and fewer still with truly feminine looks. Most are truly little girls or women inside and their souls scream out to live as such. Only reality has given them a hard twist as their shells are total male in all ways. From a prominent thyroid cartilage (Adam's apple) to thick bones and strong facial features, hands that can crush a beer can with two fingers and a voice strong and deep. To these people real life is a nightmare and often leads them to despair.

I am a very lucky person! Yes, lucky because it takes less effort to make me look feminine than it does to make me look masculine. Most TG people do not have it this way. My problem? I was born a boy and society has left its mark on us all.

Sweet beautiful dreams, one after the other in living color and as realistic as dreams can be. I am Rachel, pretty and happy. My eyes sparkle with a power of hidden knowledge and strength. My smile, so inviting to others, compelling them to come and talk to me and share their inner beings, knowing I will freely share myself. I am surrounded by little girls and women all sharing with one another as the dreams shifts to another view. A view I do not like! I am just seeing the outside of things, the shells which hold little true meaning, but what society calls truth of the beholder. Society teaches us that pictures never lie and what the eyes see is in truth reality.

I know better! Most transgendered people know this as false teaching! Like the old saying, that is a direct opposite of what society teaches us 'do not judge a book by its cover'; we know that what is important and true is what is within us, not what our bodies look like!

My dreams shifted back and forth teaching me and trying to make sense out of a life so complicated. Our dreams show us much more than we ever give them credit for. To many of us wake up and in an instant our dreams are forgotten. I learned! I understood and I remembered.

My true self, and the only way my life would match this truth, was as Rachel, not Rich! Who was I kidding? Yes, the truth has set me free, or has it?

* * *

Morning, the sun's rays warm my face and my eyes can sense their brightness. I wake to find Auntie sitting in a chair next to my bed, smiling down at me. Her gaze giving off the great love she has for me.

"Good morning, sleepy head. We have a lot to do today so hurry up and get dressed. Breakfast will be ready soon."

She stood up and bent over giving my cheek a gentle loving kiss and then she slapped me hard on my bottom! Ouch! I giggled and got up to begin the morning rituals. A good forty-five minutes later I was in the kitchen having French toast and coffee. This was orientation day! The beginning lessons of what I was to become as a direct caregiver.

Grace would be here soon and I would be learning many things quickly. My Aunt Harriett being the first person I was to provide direct care to. We were laughing because she was already wearing her Johnny gown and comfort bra. She had chosen one of the childish patterns of Teddy Bears for her Johnny. She twirled and modeled it, giggling like a child which then infected me and we were both giggling like children as Grace walked in. This set off more giggle fits as Grace helped herself to some French toast and a cup of black coffee.

Grace, after a bite and a sip of her black coffee, gave us both a look that made us stop our giggling.

"Today we are going to be very busy and you must be serious about everything we are going to do. The time is short and soon you will be taking care of two very difficult children in adult bodies. Harriett, you must act as I am going to instruct you. You will be one of those difficult children and you must be as realistic as you can manage. Rachel, at first you will learn the basics of direct care and then you will have to give this same care to a very reluctant person. It is very different, providing care to a reluctant and combative person, than for one willing to receive care. If you do something the wrong way, one of you can get injured and sometimes both of you. So listen closely and pay close attention to all the steps you must learn. If you do, you will succeed and if you don't you are sure to fail."

With that said, and as she finished her light breakfast, we began our lessons in earnest.

I won't go into the many things one must learn and do well while caring for others most basic needs. I will only say that even providing this care for someone not fighting you is a hard and many times a thankless job. Your only reward is in knowing that you are providing the care that this person needs and you are giving them your best. For the reluctant and combative person, providing them this care is exhausting? LORDY!

This is a whole different scene entirely. The biggest key to providing quality care to any individual is by knowing that individual. The only way to do this is by actually caring for them and the time it takes to get to know them and their reactions to everything. That learning time must be kept to a minimum or your job will be very hard indeed!

All too soon the days passed and hours and hours of lessons learned. I was as ready as I would be. My Aunt Harriet held no secrets from me now. I knew her personality and her body better than my own. Once we were both over the initial shock of exposure and being touched, washed and even the embarrassing treatments such as douches, enemas, suppositories, shaving and many other intimate procedures, we progressed very rapidly. Yes, I too had to be the recipient of direct care. Grace said it was better for me to understand what it was like being on the receiving end as well as the providing end. She was right! It did give me a better understanding of the reactions a person receiving this care would have.

The hardest part of my learning was when Harriett was combative! Try changing a wet and soiled adult when they are fighting you! You can't. You must use your knowledge of them and get them to be calm and compliant. No easy task, let me tell you. It is hard to complete any task with a combative person. I was to be taking care of two combative children trapped in adult bodies.

***

It was time; I was off to Betty's and my first day of actual caregiving. To say I was nervous would be an understatement. I was feeling ill, I was so scared! The night before I set out to be well prepared, my father's saying repeating itself in my head, "Prior Proper Planning Prevents Piss Poor Performance." I prepared the best I could.

I was dressed in Betty's favorite outfit. The one she had given to me as a present. It fit very well indeed and I no longer needed those special panties. A minimum of make-up and my hair pulled back in a high ponytail held tight to my head with a light blue scrunchie. I looked in my mirror and smiled, Rachel you are a pretty one! I giggled, grabbed my purse and walked down the stairs.

At Grace's suggestion, I wore stud earrings and no necklace. Combative people tended to grab onto things dangling, so I did not want to offer any hand holds to these two combative children in adult bodies. Grace was already here and Harriett looked as nervous as I was. My mother surprised us as she walked in, giving me a hug and a kiss, she offered me encouragement and gave me her love. I was as ready as I would be and after a very light breakfast of toast and coffee, Betty's driver and car pulled in.

It was a big black Lincoln Continental with the suicide doors! I heard about these doors and only the Lincoln Continentals had them. The back seat doors had the handles next to the front doors. When you opened them, the doors swung open the opposite way of any other car. Entering one of these wearing a regular dress or skirt was difficult without showing something you shouldn't. There was a trick to it. Trying this with a short dress was next to impossible! Exiting these cars was a breeze.

The driver came to the door and introduced himself as Harry. Thankfully Grace was coming with me my first week. We both entered the car and Grace showed me how to enter this type of car wearing a dress. I giggled because you still ended up showing a lot of leg. One hand held either the driver's hand or the door's handhold on the inside as your other hand swept under your bottom holding your dress close to your legs as you sat down and withdrew your hand. You then swung your legs inside the car quickly grabbing the part of your dress or skirt hanging out the door. This is when you showed the most leg and in this car everybody could see right in. The driver was to stand in a specific place, to provide you with a shield from view. Only the experienced drivers knew this, either that or they wanted to let people see the show!

We were off and Grace filled the time of our drive with last minute reminders to me. I was thankful for that because I was very, very nervous. I was confident though, knowing I had been taught by the best and very thoroughly. Soon enough we arrived, at the gates of the 'Mountain View Estates.' A guardhouse was there and a pretty female guard dressed in a very smart uniform approached us. A big tough looking male guard was standing in front of the gate. He was big! He was handsome, but he had the look that you did not want to cross this man!

The female guard waved to Harry and our window slid down automatically, I guess controlled by the driver. It opened on Grace's side of the car and the guard introduced herself as Officer Margaret Maxell. We had to answer a few questions which she wrote down on a form attached to a clipboard. We also had to provide her with a picture of me which Grace had with her. I was to be given an ID card on my next pass through. Margaret then waved to the male guard and he opened the gates.

We drove through and passed several huge homes and a few you only saw a gate and driveway. It took us another five minutes to get to Betty's estate. When we pulled up to set of beautiful carved solid wooden gates Harry stopped and pressed a button in a box attached to his sun visor. The gates slid open slowly and I entered a different world.

  

  

  

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