Between stress and a good old-fashioned rhinovirus, I've been having a lot of strange dreams; last night was no exception.
First, I dreamt that an Italian man was attempting to seduce me. (I'm not sure why my fevered brain opted for a Mediterranean origin - perhaps because I knew an incorrigible duo of Italian Lotharios in my younger years?)
Naturally, I rebuffed him - I'm a married woman!
Second, I dreamt that I was hurriedly pacing an unfamiliar street, with only an undersized towel to hide my modesty. I was of course then approached by several men with the intent to perpetrate a robbery at a gunpoint. (Most unpleasant stuff.)
Interestingly however: in both instances, I was incredibly aware that (a) I was trans, and (b) in the dreams themselves, fully physically transitioned (to the point that the aforementioned Casanova was mistakenly under the impression that I was cis).
Until now, my dreams have generally been modeled on my former identity and appearance; and it is both fascinating, and long overdue, to see them finally catch up!