(Entered in paper journal at 8:15 AM at the Tea Lounge on Union Street and 7th Avenue in Brooklyn.)
Dream 1
I crouched in some corner or closet of a black-walled, dark room. The room was wide, maybe with bunk beds in it.
On the far right, out of my sight, possibly by a door, three or four black people stood joking about two snapshots or Polaroids of transvestites. I think there was only one guy in the group. All the folks were young and somewhat good looking. The people laughed because the people in the photos looked very feminine, which was something, apparently, guys just shouldn't be allowed to do.
I croaked out something like, "Well -- well -- let me see how they look." A pretty girl brought over one snapshot, which she implied wasn't the better one.
As I looked at the photo the girl said, "You don't disapprove of people doing this?" I looked at the photo. I was disappointed by how un-feminine the transvestite looked.
I looked back up at the girl. She said, "Oh -- you're one of them. Well, that's kind of fun! We can dress you up and make you look a lot prettier than either of these ones."
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