I am in one of those amusement park "mirror maze" rooms. When I look in one mirror, I see someone sweet, feminine, smiling. She looks back at me in such a way that I realize, it must be me.

But as my unsure feet move along the floor, which seems to rock and slide as if I'm on a boat, I am faced with another mirror image. It is a man. He also is smililng. He is naked. I want to touch him. But I find that if I touch myself, I am touching him. He is me.

These two creatures are so utterly different. I wonder how I can be both of them physically. I find myself staring into the mirror, and all I see are eyes. The mirror seems to be magnified. All I see are the eyes. They are my eyes, staring back at me, but without any face. Are they the eyes of a man? A woman?

The eyes close, and there is nothing but darkness. I am waking, thrashing, I know I must be under the covers, and it must be dead of night because there is no light coming through the window that I could see through the light sheet and bed-spread. I want to wake up, but I can't.

I am back in the hall of mirrors.

In my dreams I rarely speak. But in this one, I try. If I can say something, I will know what I am, male or female. But the voice isn't even a whisper. I realize, when I look in the mirror at myself, I never speak. So my mirror image can't really tell me what I am.

I try and look down at myself, but it's as if my neck is broken. It won't allow me to look down.

Now, in front of me, is a half male half female creature that mocks me. Each time I look at it, it has distorted itself into an even worse combination. A male's head with a stubble beard perched on a mannequin's body...a female mannequin with hard, unyielding breasts and nothing between her legs. Now it is some kind of gorilla with pink breasts poking through, beautiful breasts but everything else is matted hair. And as I shift my feet the mirror becomes the image of a woman with her legs parted and only a scrotum hanging. I think there were more images, but they were so fearsome that I either had enough subconscious sense to forget them on awakening, or I was too afraid to write them down.

I like to be the woman. I like to be the man. The dream seemed to tell me that I could not be both. Not without it being obvious that I am one way or another.