My Super-Fancy Sexuality

I first identified as female in 2000. The female I identified with was a spirit-mother that manifested through dreams and emerged through my body during meditation - after I let go of the male identity I had formed in response to the world: one of lust, numbness, rage and comedy; and without dignity. Underneath that, I discovered I was a child, male & female, and an “all-powerful being” named “Rose Mary Pillowwater.” There was not much of me that was acting as an adult in the world. My adult self was serving my inner-world. Although, glimpses of my adult self came frequently in visionary states, for example:

“A naked, ten-year-old girl emerged inside me. She was missing her glasses. Her hair was blond. Her body had been unloved. She was alienated from it and knew nothing about sex. She had been cocooned in my male self’s lust and fear of feeling for a long time. She was my body. I let her explore it.

“To let her feel her face, I had to let it completely relax. She was slack-jawed, like the sort of kid who is unaware of how loudly they are breathing because they are so involved in a book. When I was a kid, I had hated kids who breathed like that. I hated kids who ate loudly. I hated the sound of saliva. I hated my body as the world hated it.

“In 1979, when I was eleven, there were a lot of kids on TV because it was the International Year of the Child. I cringed to hear kids speaking on TV because they sounded like idiots to me, and I felt embarrassed for them.

“As a thirty-two-year old, I loved the ten-year-old girl inside me. She began to explore herself erotically and became lustful her own self and clutched at the new feeling, trying to hold it close so that it wouldn’t go away. In response, my soul sent forth an adult version of her into my body; a blond woman in her twenties, wearing colorful, sexy clothing, in command of erotic life – not needing it too much or fearing it. The woman was nourished by eros. She did not need to clutch it. Her power was humbling. The ten-year-old girl was frightened and went back into hiding.

“The woman lived in the World, where eros is free. In the world the ten-year-old girl was from, eros was illicit and pornographic. It had to be since it was so magnificent in contrast to the rest of existence. In her world people forsook their souls in exchange for eros. Then, it was no longer purely eros, but was weighted with aires, eros’ primordial companion.”

In the last weeks this woman has been awakening through me, as I have sexually active for the first time in 12 years – and for the first time without testicles. It gets erect, is received into the vagina, has orgasms; without testosterone, with eros pure.

I dreamed I was going down on Coyote Marie and something small and hard came out of her, into my mouth – a baby tooth – a reference to vagina dentata; the toothed vagina. My mature, female eros is ready to grow in, as adult teeth do

I had another dream referring to the immaturity of my former self’s sexuality:

I am in a supermarket looking at peanut butter. There is super-fancy peanut butter that usually costs $65, but is on sale for $49. Beside it is kids’ peanut butter, with jelly and banana mixed in, for only $0.59. One seems too expensive, and the other too cheap to be any good.

The cheap peanut butter is my male sexuality, sexuality any boy can claim just by showing up. It’s ingredients are the banana (penis), jelly (semen) and the feminine peanut butter; all mixed, gloppy, confused, not so nourishing. The other peanut butter is smooth, creamy, delectable, nourishing, highly valuable and feminine.

Another thing about peanut butter is that the oil in it makes me sore and a bit slow. Sex will do that, too, leaving one in a pacified stupor if it is too frequent.

One thing I love about being a woman with a woman is the absence of urgency. There is nothing in the back of my mind thinking, “Ok, let’s cut to the chase and get on the penetration.” Sometimes intercourse happens – sometimes not…I am exquisitely aware of my scrotum empty except for the sensuality of labia…Eros is no longer visual – I keep my eyes closed most of the time. Instead of seeing what I am getting, I feel what I have. Erotic sensibility is self-renewing, erupting in slow-motion.

Coyote Marie had this dream:

I’m at school. The dorms are spacious – a big building with library and computer lab – grander than in waking-life. Amy and I lay close on a twin bed, on our backs, our legs up and out, resting there. And two girls are laying supine on the bottom half of the bed, their heads beneath our uplifted thighs.

Amy and I make up little games to play – sweet learning-playing games. One is a spinning mobile with charms, toys, dolls, etc. We play by spinning it and then reaching in and taking out one of the hanging things and showing it.

Then it’s time for the morning line-up. I step out into the hallway, outside my door, Chippy sits in a chair. We’re having a lovely chat. All around people are rushed – rather amok, and we’re all, “What’s the big deal?” We’re right where we need to be, on time, here, now.

The door opens again and Amy steps out. Chippy and I look at her and see how beautiful she is. She stands with shy confidence. Her outfit is stunning: a shiny cream shirt layered with a shiny spring green top peeking out, and a wrap of peachy-orange – all of it silky and flowy and light. Behind her right ear is an open peachy darker-orange hibiscus.

The day after the dream I felt deeply in touch with my erotic being – not in a horny way, but in a self-possessed way. I told Coyote Marie, “I want to give you my body,” something that would not have occurred to me to say when I was male.

As it turned out, she was called away to make a delivery of flowers. I told her, “I still want to give you my body.”

“When I get back,” she said.

The delivery was of flowers – of the exact colors I was wearing in her dream, and they were to a “Rose Mary.”

I was humbled.

The next day I threw out the old, kid-sized toothbrush I had been using, and unpackaged an adult-sized one.

On Monday, Wednesday and Friday updates are posted to Amy George’s other blog Ask the Dream Queen, for which she interprets reader-submitted dreams.