Is That Me? Ch. 01

You'd think an instant and dreamless kind of sleep would feel refreshing, but I can't remember waking up more exhausted. I think about last night...my usual parasocial ritual that an unpopular sophomore could call a busy evening: playing games with internet friends, watching an anime livestream the group-chat all claimed to enjoy ironically. I remember laying in bed, closing private tabs and erasing the evidence of how I usually ended most nights. And here I am now, eyes caked in sandy bits, with hands scrambling through the sheets without a clue of where I left my phone.

Maybe another hour or two in bed could turn this morning around, but the sunbeams flickering across my eyelids make it a painfully clear that it's time to get up. That's really odd...I can't remember going to gym yesterday, so why does everything feel like a chore? And this pounding headache, too. Just what happen last night?

It takes a bit of effort, but I manage to scoot up and make some sense of things. Pastels, plants, and the absence of the stale B.O. filling a boy's dormitory. I can't say the cabana themed bedroom isn't a little surprising, and I don't typically fall asleep in strange girls' beds... even getting laid seems even less likely -- so who's room is this?

But now less sleepy and disoriented, I spot a woman laying in the bed across from mine. She looks about as wiped as I do, but a smile peeks out from behind the mess of auburn curls. The "good morning" she yawns out is equal parts cute and contagious. Something about her feels so familiar...The way her eyes lock onto my gaze, how she stares at me so curiously, and how much she looks like the sister I never had.

Without missing a beat, she follows my lead as I swing feet off the bed toward hers. My rapport with girls wasn't exactly stellar, but I've never met one that looked so happy to see me. I cleared my throat to get her name, but she seems to speak first.

And just like before, I ask her name but she replies, "I'm Alex."

Huh, a cute girl with the same name as mine...

It seems wrong to just stare back, but something about the way she looks at me, it's almost like she recognizes me too. Do I know any pretty girls named Alex? Someone with green eyes, and a chest that surges out with each breath, the kind of girl who trembles as she blushes? Jeez, I must look like a mess....And just what am I wearing anyway -- Oh no!

No wonder she's been staring at me! It's a dress! A nightgown? It's some kind of cream colored silk with lacy accents, looks like it's been washed and tumble dried a few hundred times. Whatever it is, this just screams GIRL CLOTHES. How could I not notice an outfit like this for so long?

I've gotta take this off before she gets the wrong idea. Just grab the fabric and pull this off...wait -- These are my hands? When did they smaller, softer, and missing the calloused palms I expected...and these nails painted with ruby red polish, chipped and outgrown around the edges. These hands...they move like they're mine, but they look like they belong on her. And yet here they are, leading to a pair of matching arms, sprinkled with freckles in the familiar spots I'd expect to find them, albeit without much less hair than I remember.

Just what is all this, anyway? Oh god...Maybe someone drugged me last night and put me in this getup to let the whole campus see me as some crossdresser pervert! But this girl across from me doesn't seem like the type, in fact she looks more confused than anything else. I can't remember what happened last night, but I just know she was there!

Curiosity seems to get the better of us as we awkwardly kneel into the carpeted space between our beds. Actually, I do remember something about her! I pressed my palm against hers just before I fell asleep. But what if we touched now -- would it be like last night? From her expression, I'm thinking she has the same idea.

We reach our hands out and press on, but meet with a shockingly unexpected sensation. Not the warmth of her skin like I'd hoped, but instead, the cool and crisp feeling of glass. Almost like my reflection...

In that moment, her eyes widen at our shared discovery and a dizzying shift in perspective takes over. The way she never breaks my gaze, waking up in the same clothes as her, and those same small hands of hers that seem to move like mine.

The girl on the other side of the mirror -- she's me!

Without the mirror's illusion, the room quickly shrinks to its true size, shattering what little sense of balance I have left. My head thumps against the wooden bed frame, and a familiar but all-too-high-pitched voice shrieks out, "Fuck! That really hurt!"

I'm okay, I think. Now if I could just aim my arm toward the back of my head and -- oof -- close enough, now just dial the pressure down from scouring to soothing. Everything's felt strange like this since I woke up, like my body was lighter than my brain had expected, or at least with the weight in all the wrong places.

With the grace of a marionette lead by a drunk puppeteer, I pull myself up, out from the embarrassment of a morning spent under the impression that my reflection was someone else, and back up into the land of wicker furniture, where sun drenched palms spill their fronds against pastel walls. I just can't shake the feeling that I've seen this all before. Not just the room, but even the view past the greenery on windowsill, seeing those same few cars perform a weekly dance called alternate side parking. This really is a little too detailed for a dream, isn't it?

Most of the time, my dreams were just a rerun of that day's memories -- typical life stuff. But after an especially long dry-spell, or maybe just reading too much hentai, there's a twist. It always starts with something mundane, maybe like a dream visit to the bank. But for some reason, the teller would shout over and over, "miss, miss!" until it finally clicks -- he's actually talking to me! And that's where it usually ends...but if I'm lucky, sometimes it's so much more than just making deposit in a dress. Suddenly, I'm in a bedroom kinda like this one, with my hands exploring under a nightgown just like...h-hey wait a minute!

"I-I really am in a girl's body!" I shout, "A-And I still haven't woken up!"

Wait, that's my voice?!

I squeak out a few more attempts, "T-this, no-no, this is how I...talk." Okay, maybe just clear my throat and try to bring it down, "My name is Alex."

"So...embarrassing, c-can't even..."

That's still so high pitched! What if someone hears me?

"--A-And what if someone comes in and sees me?!" I cry, reaching to cover my mouth with enough force to slap myself in the face, "Ahh," I mumble, "W-What if t-this is all a part of some big prank to make me look like a girl...and I'm wearing some virtual reality headset...t-that I can't take off."

No, no...that's stupid. I mean, it is a little surreal to run my fingers through a mess of unfamiliar auburn strands, but they do feel like the real thing when I give them a little tug. And I've never felt my heart beat in a dream, but when I pressing my palm against the thumping in my chest, it..it...wait a minute!

"I have tits!"