#Dream: Negro DragQueen Suicide

First I walked up to him, the dragqueen, then I became him.

I was a black, transgender, who decided to commit suicide after this last party that I didn’t really want to be in. I was alone at the party but came with my group of transgenders. If the situation responded in me a smile or contact I would do it, but I wouldn’t talk or linger, going from one room to another. And a solemn acceptance to kill myself later was driving.

I now am with my JRT walking her home in Amman. There was a label of a date at the top left of my vision, year 6999..? bright on black background. The first car, the 90s BM was now a wonderful blue futuristic convertible, and in my mind as I apprciate the design and color say how “stupid” that they still make these same cars in the year 6xxx, telling that to J, passing another of our cars also from the future. The house on the other hand was completely different, not a four story building by much shorter smaller adobe double domes, with my family in the spacious front yard having breakfast on a lovely sunny day.

I woke up and had the understanding and personification of that stereotype, how much they could be just like me.