Talk about internalized hamafahbeea and deep-seated exant race worries.

Last night I dreamt that I was at some six-week program that entailed a fancy all-white-dress graduation ceremony. My bad-influence-friend from middle school, Allie Miner, was there. And halfway into the program I started sleeping with a straight Chinese-American woman a year younger than me. The sex wasn’t in the dream. But some facts about it were. Like, some sort of unnamed consensual force or maybe role-play. Halfway through the program the woman’s older sister showed up and found out we were having sex and put a stop to it. Everyone had a lot of shame about what had been going on. Then the woman I was sleeping with disappeared. The cops came and then it went to the FBI. Everyone was questioned, including the head of the LGBT Center at my school. I wanted to tell the police that we had been sleeping together but they kept telling me that she was involved with someone who was forcing her to have sex and I knew they thought her rapist killed her. Plus, I thought the feds didn’t have enough information to put a case together and decided to stay quiet. In my dream I thought had gotten away with it.

On graduation night I walked up a long pier from a boat with all the rest of the women to get my diploma. Bad-influence Allie was right behind me and she wrapped her hands around my waist and told me that my muscles felt good. I was overcome with the same feeling I got in middle school when any of the popular girls complimented me, angry elation. Then she said, “be careful, that can slip away quickly.” And I told her not to worry because I was a triathlete.

After the ceremony I went back to my home and a parent-aged couple met me and I went to my room. I heard the phone ringing in the LGBT center and knew it was the director calling for me but I didn’t get there in time. I took off my white dress to get in bed, exhausted and bleary-eyed. I lay down naked and immediately saw the flashing lights of the cops coming to get me. I thought I better put some clothes on before they arrested me and that I would at least be able to work out a lot in jail.

Completely unnecessary question: Why did I feel like I had gotten away with something?

More interesting question: What’s the connection between all the vanity and physical fitness and guilt/innocence and value?