(10/13/07) drugstore tranny

(Entered in paper journal at 9:40 AM at Starbucks on 43rd Street and Third Avenue in Manhattan.)

Dream #1

I walked into a store like a drugstore. I wore men's jeans and a girls' t-shirt: maybe a pink tank-top made of a satiny fabric, more like it was a pajama top or a camisole. I was going to work or going out to meet some people from my work. I had come into the drugstore first, though, to buy a different shirt to change into. I could only find a polo-type shirt, short-sleeved, with blue and dark blue striped and a white collar.

I walked up to the front counter. The woman at the register was tall, thin, and pale white, with short, brown-red hair. Behind the woman the window showed night sky. I stood maybe five or teen feet away from the register. As I took off the one shirt and put on the other I told the cashier my story.

I noticed now that I wore dress pants, not jeans. The polo-type shirt didn't match with these pants at all. The girl said, "Well I think both of your shirts were a good choice. They show you have style."

I saw in my reflection in the window that the back of the blue shirt was pink. I thought, Is this a girl's shirt, too?

The girl said, "In fact, could I wear the pink shirt while you're not using it?"

I said yes. I was going to hand the shirt to the woman. I was eager to see her wearing it, as if it would connect us sexually or arouse her sexually toward me in some way. But instead, I turned right and walked to a clothing rack that stuck out incongruously maybe fifteen feet from the register. I rifled through the clothes, possibly looking for a boy's shirt.