(vi) I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad

My hands were shaking when I woke up this morning. I had that dream again. Well I guess I shouldn’t say ‘that’ dream, because they’re all different. It was this young girl last night, running by me in this skirt similar to one I was wearing who got me killed. It wasn’t her fault, it’s just apparently I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Fucking hell, get a grip, you were asleep. You weren’t in the wrong place, at the wrong time, they’re just dreams. They’re just dreams. Or maybe nightmares I suppose. Somehow, something always feels right about them though. I mean, I didn’t start wearing dresses until that first one I had when I was tripping off my nuts in Mexico. It seems so natural so have my genitals hanging free. What do women have which needs so much space between their legs? They’ve got a lack of flesh there, not a surplus. Hmm.

Well anyway, off to work as usual. Flying to Rome tonight. Won’t that be great! They got some designers there which will really have taken advantage of male frame in these womens clothes. Well I hope they will. I’ve never been to Italy before. Never really liked pizza enough to warrant it. Or maybe I’ve just never had the time. I have been flying to Mexico and back far too often to go other places. I wonder why I stopped that. It was only last week I made my last flight wasn’t it? Anyway…

“Single to Heathrow please” I ask the girl behind the counter as nicely as I can. She looks frightened, and not in the way that a man in a dress frightens people.

“Um.. here you go…. Sir?” she asks tentatively. I’ve been getting that a lot recently. People never seem to know what gender to give me. I suppose I don’t either.

“Yes, sir will do. Which platform is it please?” I know which platform it is, but I’m afraid if I leave this poor little thing alone too quickly she might burst into tears. Something has fucked with her head today, and today I know how she feels.

“It’s just that one there.” She says non-comittally. I linger a second longer as her lips look like they want to form more words, but they can’t be bothered in the end. I walk away, feeling the cool air on my balls, when I hear her call out “Be careful!” but I’m not sure if she’s talking to me or herself.

Some days it’s like this. It’s not a good sign anyway. I gotta face my boss for the first time today over my “alterations” to the uniform they’ve given me. Apparently The Man doesn’t like my dress. Doesn’t inspire confidence in the passengers he says. Fuck that. It’s the hat which inspires confidence, considering they can only see the back of my head over the chair. And I never take this hat off. Except when I’m wearing a wig… wait a minute, I’ve never worn a wig, but suddenly flashes of fake hair appear in my mind and in my eyes.

And then I see her. The girl from my dreams. The most innocent out of the whole guilty lot. She’s staring onto the train at the tears falling from another pretty face. She probably wants to help her. I do to, but I can’t because I’m frozen. I’ve been inside that girls head. I know what her tears are about….. my death. She killed me. I want to scream, but all the other faces on the tube have killed me too. Those lesbo’s somehow together at last. Those stupid fat fucking yanks. No! They were just dreams. They were just dreams. They were just…

“Mind the Gap”. Breaks my reverie. I hear it for the last time, but this is the first time I’ve listened. Mind the gap. Not this time. I step purposefully towards the train, but miss and fall. Maybe I’ll never stop falling. Maybe I’m still dreaming. My feet feel hot, like they’re touching the surface of sand. I wonder about a police man I never knew.