Future Version of Me

I don’t know if there’s any truth to it or not, but I think antidepressant medication causes strange dreams. I used to have recurring dreams where my car got stolen or just moved somewhere other than where I left it. Another recurring dream I sometimes still have basically revolves around the world ending in some way. It was always different, but always disturbing and upsetting.

I try not to put too much weight in dreams. To me, if they’re good, fine. If they’re not good then all they’re doing is ruining a good night’s sleep for me. That said, occasionally “interesting” dreams come along that I feel are worth remembering. Before I forget it, I want to write about one of those here.

There was a lot of stuff going on that was relatively unimportant and random. I think I was helping people move a bunch of stuff and load it onto a trailer. There were a number of people about, most of whom I didn’t know. A few seemed to have names of people I know in real life, but weren’t actually those people. I think it was when we were done loading the trailer with stuff I was walking back to some house with a few other people. There was one girl in the group who I was talking to. She seemed really familiar, but was not anyone I know in real life.

Anyway, we were talking and getting along quite well. She was very nice. Ok, I can’t believe I’m going to write this so candidly here, but it’s critical to the story, so I can’t leave it out or allude to what I’m talking about. We somehow began talking about transgender people and transitioning. I mentioned that I was starting to work on just that. She stopped, and said that it was a big deal, and that I should know that it was what I really wanted. I replied that it was, and that it was very important to me. Seemingly satisfied, we continued walking to the house and continued chatting. I remember she was so nice. She seemed so familiar.

When we arrived at the house I realized that I hadn’t gotten her name. I asked her and she replied that her name was “Scotty” which is about as feminine a version of my given name as you can get. Then she walked into the house. I remember feeling stunned, like I had just witnessed the twist at the end of an M. Night Shyamalan movie. Then I woke up.

Was that girl me? Was that why she seemed so familiar? The dream left me feeling so good. Like some potential future version of myself met up with me in a dream as if to tell me that “yes, I am you. Things are going to be ok.”