Dreaming Of A Better Life

The soft, warm early morning sun filtered through the double-layered sheer curtains of the bedroom, as thirteen-year-old Alexis lay sleepily in the bed trying to remember last night's dream.

You know how sometimes, as soon as you awaken you have the feeling that you were just torn from a glorious dream, and then you lie there trying desperately to get back into it and remember the wonderful details? Yeah, this dream was like that.

Alexis desperately wanted to remember the dream and lay there, trying as hard as possible to recall. After a few moments, the details began to re-emerge.

A nervous young girl was standing on a balcony modeling a beautiful, flowing evening gown at what looked to be either a fashion show or a beauty pageant. She was gracefully posing as the girls in the audience offered approving encouragement, saying things like "so lovely" and "you're beautiful."

With a carefully practiced gesture, the girl brought her soft, half-curled fingers up to her scooped neckline while the other hand lifted the edge of her ankle-length seafoam green dress showing off the shimmering, sequined three inch, strappy heels, that matched her dress.

Back straight and chest out, she turned and started to walk down the stairs and across the stage. As she cleared the top step her mother appeared in the crowd looking at her with a puzzled, upset expression across her face. Suddenly the next step collapsed leading to a tumbling fall, down, down . . .

Alexis stretched in bed, as the dream faded away, but the feeling of being that beautiful model did not fade. Dreams of being a gorgeous model were a common occurrence lately, for Alexis. It seemed as though every morning brought memories of another dream, every time in a different situation, yet every situation included Alexis as a beautiful young fashion model.

Alexis continued to lie there in the bed thinking about the latest dream and what it meant.

The bedroom was decorated in a contemporary, neutral style. A football-themed wallpaper design showed faintly through the pale reddish-brown paint. Alexis had insisted on painting over the wallpaper, and the chosen color was the closest to pink that Mom had been willing to buy.

After the paint job, Mother had reluctantly gone along with a subtle floral print for the matching bedspread and curtains.

What did she have against pink and flowers?

On the wall was a collage with pictures of beautiful teen-girl movie stars and singers. Alexis thought of these girls as role models to be viewed with envious admiration.

For months Alexis had wanted to talk with Mom about the dreams but was afraid of what she would say.

Alexis' mom, Beth Evans was both a successful research scientist with an awkward techno-geek personality and a struggling single mother with limited parenting skills. She also had an undiagnosed hint of autism.

Beth's way of asserting that a modern woman could be both intellectual and feminine was to combine her computer-programmer career with a passion for music, dance, and elegant fashion. Alexis often went to trendy stores and arts performances with her, treasuring these experiences.

Beth agonized over whether she was doing a proper job of raising Alexis. For parenting advice, she relied on her sister, Alexandria, who was an elegant lady and loved all five syllables of her name. Only her closest relatives could get away with calling her Sandy. She had a Ph.D. in Psychology, worked as a high school counselor, and had two beautiful daughters, of her own, bracketing Alexis in age.

Alexis suspected Mom would be accepting no matter what but was never sure. Beth liked talking about abstractions like news and fashion, but verbalizing personal thoughts totally confounded her.

Regarding awkward topics, Mom could comfortably communicate only through actions and gifts.

Mother-child communication about growing up had always been especially difficult. Alexis's maternal grandfather had frequently been recruited to talk about boy things.

His mom's typical way of implying that Alexis should become more masculine was to drop him off at grandfather's house just when a televised football game was starting.

Grandpa seemed to have old-fashioned values where everything was as it was supposed to be, even if the suppositions existed only in his memories. Conversations with Alexis were always friendly, but sometimes uncomfortable for both.

A few months ago a book on changes during male puberty had shown up in his room. Mom never said a word; she just left the book where he would find it. She probably wants me to talk with Grandpa about that too, thought Alexis.

As he had done many times before, Alexis resolved that today he would finally get Mom to understand what he felt inside.

Since she communicated best with hints, he had been dropping hints too. Maybe, just maybe, if he kept dropping hints she would eventually guess enough to open the conversation herself.

His greatest fear was what would happen if she disapproved, like in the dream. What would she really do in response? Crashing downstairs seemed insignificant compared to the risks of committing to the truth.

Letting Mom speak first seemed much safer, that way he would have a chance to see her attitude before making an irrevocable comment himself.

He had already dropped many hints. Last week the glossy local lifestyle magazine, Greater Valley People & Places, published a story about a cross-dressing boy being prohibited from attending a private, church-run middle school.

Alexis had left the magazine on the kitchen table with the story headline and a glamorous photo of the expelled student in full view.

After a few days, Alexis found that the magazine had been picked up and piled with other back issues on the corner shelf.

When the hint was indirect, Beth's geek personality seemed to leave her oblivious to the message, but whenever Alexis attempted to be more explicit he always ended up pulling back from the brink, unsure of what would happen.

Through the closed door, he could hear that Mother was chatting on the phone. She had a tendency to assume if she could not see someone then they could not hear her either. This habit had often proven useful to Alexis. Even though he could only hear one side of the conversation he quickly knew that she was talking to Aunt Alexandria.

"Do you really think so?" ... "He has such unusual interests for a boy." ... "I really have never found a way to ask." ......"And don't push him? ... "Yes, I realize support is really important.".... "That's a great idea."

Beth changed the topic as soon as Alexis opened his bedroom door and headed for the bathroom. Why do they always seem to be talking about me when they think I can't hear?

From the sound of the conversation, it seemed that Mom might be getting the idea, but then maybe not. She could be talking about anything.

He had thought about dropping some hints on Aunt Alexandria too but decided that could only increase his risk. She usually acted very intellectual and was very progressive in her social attitudes, but maybe she had strict ideas about gender.

Alexis could imagine Aunt Alexandria using her psychology contacts to get him into some treatment program before he embarrassed the family.

As he finished his business in the bathroom and washed up, he thought about how he had heard his Mom tell her friends how he was such a gentleman, always putting the toilet seat back down.

Little did she know, he no longer needed to lift it, choosing to sit when he peed, instead.

Thinking about this boy-girl difference reminded Alexis of Grandpa's clumsy attempts to initiate a birds and bees conversation with him. He thought about how awkward it all had been as he headed back to the kitchen.

His mom was sitting at the breakfast nook, checking the tech-news headlines, on her tablet. Without looking up, she greeted him, "Good morning dear, sleep well?... Breakfast is on the counter."

Alexis put some berry and yogurt cereal in a bowl and poured a glass of milk. He eased himself onto a stool, crossed his ankles, and started to nibble. He was still wearing the oversized pale blue tee shirt he usually slept in. It was almost a nightgown, but still, something that a boy could wear without comment.

He was trying to diet and keep a slender build as much as possible. Puberty was not something to look forward to. He had seen the diagrams in the book and had to watch videos in health class: beards, hairy chest, bulky muscles. Yuck.

Alexis gathered his thoughts. Weekend breakfast together seemed as good a time as any to have a serious talk with Mom. He rehearsed the key lines in his mind one more time. Build slowly, and back off if things went astray.

The opening was going to be to ask Mom what she knew about boys who felt they should be girls. If her reaction became hostile he would be able to fend it off by saying he saw the article in the lifestyle magazine last week and was just concerned about anyone being harassed.

If she sounded sympathetic he would say he often had some uncomfortable feelings. Just give the first hint that he might have a personal interest in gender issues, then reassess the situation before continuing with the mental script.

Take a deep breath.

Get ready.

Here goes.

"Mom, there's something from last week I need to ask you about."

"Yes, but make it quick. I need to clean up and get going soon. Busy day."

Once again Mother was preoccupied and apparently clueless. This was not the time to start a deep conversation. "Uhh, ... maybe we could start buying low-fat yogurt?"

"I suppose. But, it wouldn't hurt you one bit to gain a little weight...Anything else?" she asked as the phone rang again.

"Hello" . . . "Hi Sandy" . . . "Thanks for calling back." . . . When did you say the sportswear sale was?" . . . " Only today. Which store?" . . . "And it's at Fashion Towne?" . . . "It's a long drive, but probably worth the trip out there." . . . "Yes, maybe this afternoon. Thanks. Bye."

Alexis tried to listen while acting like he was focused on the cereal bowl. Fashion Towne Mall? That mall was in a suburb, way across the valley. When Alexis heard she was going today, he got excited but was careful to not show it.

He had been trying to figure out how to get his mother to drive him there ever since he had learned on the internet about a certain shop at Fashion Towne.

You see, soon after getting his own computer in his room, he had managed to hack through relatively weak parental controls and create a private login. Soon, he was typing in search words that he could never bring himself to say aloud to any of the adults in his life. Searches lead to hyperlinks that lead to new sites. Some were disgusting, but others contained the information he craved.

Eventually, he found a marvelous teen support site where other boys (and apparently some girls) who were also in various stages of gender confusion and resolution, went for information and support.

Besides the moderator postings, everyone was asking questions and sharing advice through message boards, blogs, chat rooms, and private messaging.

Logged in under the name "Lexi", he had encountered someone's blog, with the screen name BIM. He messaged this person one night and discovered she was online at the time. They began to IM.

>BIM: 'Tell me about yourself?'

>Lexi: 'I'm 13 / wanna transition from M2F / from West Mountain, CO'

>BIM: "Awesome. I'm 16/ living full time as a girl/ and from just south of West Mountain."

>Lexi: 'BIM stands for?'

>BIM: 'Boy In Miniskirts'

Alexis had found a boy who was only a few years older who was openly dressing as a girl, and lived in the same metropolitan area. Over the next few weeks, they had frequent exchanges about local places, schools, support organizations, and current events while staying within the 'no personally identifying information' that BIM had suggested Alexis observe anytime he was on the site, for his safety.

BIM also helped Alexis learn how to find things he had long wanted to know about and could explore from the anonymous safety of the internet.