Allison M.

A crossdresser's thoughts on life, fashion, fabulousness, and (oh yeah) dressing up

An old not-so-sweet dream


One morning not too long ago (a couple of weeks ago, in fact), I got on WordPress and blogged about an awful dream I had the night before.  Yesterday, oddly enough, WordPress Daily Post had a writing prompt asking to recall a good dream we had, or a bad dream if we couldn’t recall a good one.  Well, while I do have vivid dreams (my earlier post is proof of that), most of them only last in my memory for a day or two.  However, I can recall a bad dream I had when I was 6 years old, maybe 7 years old.  It was probably one of the earliest bad dreams I had or at least can recall right afterwards, and I’m still surprised I can recall it 39 years later, and in a “ha ha, what a weird dream that was” kind of way.  Here’s how it went:

I dreamed that I was grown up.  Well, it felt as if I was all grown up anyway.  I’m not sure what I was doing as a grown up in this dream, but I dreamed I was in a park, a nice one in Milwaukee.  We never lived in Milwaukee, but we did live a good 60- or 70-minute drive north of Milwaukee in Eastern Wisconsin.

Now, I say this was in Milwaukee because in this dream, I’m getting out of the driver’s seat of my car (yeah, a 7-year-old driving a car, right?), and right alongside me are some of the local Milwaukee TV anchors getting out of their cars.  How do I know they were some of the local Milwaukee TV anchors?  Well, for one, we could get in some of the Milwaukee TV stations where we lived.  Also, they were getting out of cars with their station logos emblazoned on the side.  Plus, they were sporting standard issue, Technicolor-hued station blazers they would wear at the anchor desk or out in the field. (If you don’t know what I’m talking about, see one of the Ron Burgundy Anchorman movies. Or, you can search “ABC Sports blazer” on the internet; wow, were those things bright yellow.)

Anyway, all these Milwaukee TV anchors had their “thanks for watching and good night” smiles on their faces, and they were all walking towards what appeared to be a small chapel in the middle of the park.  They were motioning at me to follow them into the front door of the chapel.  I wasn’t sure what was going on, but they appeared as if they knew what was going on inside that chapel (they’re news anchors, after all).  So, I obliged and followed them into the chapel.

However, those news anchors were disappearing as they opened the chapel doors and went inside.  I didn’t think anything of it, but I still went through the doors.  When I did, however, the inside was almost completely dark save for light shining through a stain glass window in back.  Directly in front of me, however — and here’s where this dream started to creep me out — were the kids from the Honeycomb Hideout.  As in the clubhouse setting for those Post Honeycomb cereal commercials from that era. (Kids, ask your parents; watch it on YouTube if you must.)

Well, those kids from the Honeycomb Hideout sure weren’t eating cereal, let alone singing about it. (“No, no, no!”)  Matter of fact, they were shouting at me and about to bully me and push me around for no discernible reason.  Which they did: They pushed me out of the chapel doors, down the front steps, through the park, and next to the edge of a ledge.  It was at that ledge where they pushed me down to the ground and started to push me over that edge, one which led to a very steep drop.  And we’re talking very steep here, a drop of several hundred feet.  Those darn kids succeeded, pushing me completely over the ledge.  I screamed bloody murder as I fell, and I was relieved that I woke up from my dream at that point.

I’m not sure why those kids from the commercial would turn on me like that.  And I don’t really recall being teased or bullied by others in school at all at that point (finishing first grade and going on second grade).  Perhaps that dream was meant to be a harbinger of the tough times to come in school as I would get older.  Now that I think of it, I did start to be teased during second grade.

One thing’s for sure, though: I knew even as kid that a dream was just that, a dream and nothing more.  So, if you’re wondering if that dream scared me away from Honeycomb cereal, it didn’t.  Yeah, it was sugary and all that, but I still ate it up whenever Mom bought it at the store. (“Yeah, yeah, yeah!”)


Author: Allison M.

A part of the trans community ("cross-dresser" is the term that applies to me) who finds themselves much more expressive and somewhat more confident when presenting in a feminine persona. An admirer and supporter of those who are fashionable, fabulous, and friendly (LGBT or otherwise). Someone who tries to be witty and unique, but is not even remotely perverted or a pariah (I am a real human being, just like you). Using various writing styles on this blog to communicate thoughts and feelings concerning my life experiences, fashion sense, and the world at large (and maybe impressing my high school creative writing teacher who deservedly gave me middling grades).

2 thoughts on “An old not-so-sweet dream

  1. Wow, what a whirlwind of a dream! I used to remember my dreams vividly as a child, but now, the dreams that I have don’t really stick with me (the last vivid one that I can remember happened four years ago). It’s great, not to forget amazing, that that dream has stuck with you over the years! 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Pingback: My fear of… | Allison M.

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