…On the second day after I regained my consciousness, I opened my eyes in that soft bed. I suddenly remembered that I’d been a boy from birth, not a girl, and that I had grown up to be a man. But why was I wearing a fluffy pink dress and a ribbon in my hair? Also, I could not move though I was not chained or tied to the bed. My limbs simply would not obey me so that I could not even remove the duvet to check for that part that would settle my confusion. Though, as I said, I wasn’t confused inside any more at that point, only confused about my situation. — In the evening, a man came to me. He sat in a rolling chair which was not a wheel chair and he silently operated a great number of levers. The levers were apparently somehow attached to me, because as he was applying himself at the apparatus, I moved, got up, walked, thrashed around the room, sat down, just as he pleased. I was so surprised that I didn’t even think about asking him any questions. After he’d had his druthers with me for a while, he sighed satisfied, brought me back to bed and went away leaving a smell of burnt rubber behind. He had not used my genital, so that I was still unsure if I actually was a man or a woman or if I only thought I was a man but looked like a woman. Oddly enough I could not remember anything else than the most elementary facts of my life. A long, long time before my waking up in the room dressed like an oversized doll stayed blank, as if whitewashed or covered with some opaque mental material…
#89/100 days 2011. Photo: Bacchus Fountain, Boboli Gardens, Florence, Italy. Published in The Rusty Nail (in “Five Nightmares”).
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