Books, Laundry, & Self-Defense

Date: 3/8/2021

There was a library that also functioned as a laundromat. I was browsing the books there while carrying my laundry basket of dirty clothes around, waiting to use the laundry machines. I talked with other library visitors, chose books to borrow and put them back as I debated over which ones I could actually finish before they had to be returned. A woman overheard me mumbling about not knowing the difference between light novels and short novels and looked it up for me. We had a good conversation. It felt safe to talk to her. It was a pretty decent experience. There was an incident where a trans girl had to defend herself from the sexual advances of a shitty guy. She ultimately ended up trying to scare him away by appealing to his transphobia, but he refused to believe her and kept aggressively trying to hit on her. The woman who'd looked up novel types for me ended up stopping him and chasing him out of the library. I knew I'd made a good decision trusting her. I still felt safe in the library at that point, albeit grossed out that a man like that had been mixed in among the customers and was able to prey on that trans woman at all. Then I went to do my laundry. At some point, on the way to the machines, I removed the top half of my outfit and was only wearing my pants. It was as if I'd felt so safe with this person that I'd forgotten I'm not a cis guy -- or as far into my own transition as the woman from before. I'd forgotten the embarrassment and danger inherent in going topless in public, especially when you have a large chest. That I had to be careful around others. I was only worried about what I'd do while my laundry was running, and if I'd have time to wait for the whole wash cycle or not. I had to get home at a fairly specific time, which was apparently connected to another plot-line that was happening parallel to mine in the dream but that I can't remember anymore. I freely complained to the woman about my concerns, and she agreed that it was best to do my laundry at home. Even if would be more convenient for the people I live with if I did laundry here, time wouldn't stop just for their convenience. I had to do what I had to do, and in the moment that meant taking my laundry and my books and leaving the library. I sighed and agreed. I kept talking casually to the woman while putting on my binder. That was when I noticed one of the librarians behind her. He was standing behind the checkout counter with a totally open view of everything between himself and the laundry machines. He was a spindly, bald man in his 60's or so. With bony hands and a grin like he thought I was putting on a show for him. He watched me putting my binder on, and I hated it. About halfway through me getting covered up, he started walking towards me. He passed the woman I'd been talking with and wiggled his fingers expectantly -- like he thought I was offering to have him touch my chest, and he was accepting the offer. When he got close, I stomped over to him (now with my binder on fully) and grabbed the sides of his head with as much force as possible. Digging my nails in as much as possible. I yanked his head toward the ground and the rest of his body followed. When he was laying face-down on the library floor, I got a strong urge to claw out his eyes. I told him, in a voice so angry and scared it sounded somewhere between growling and crying, to never look at me like that again. I settled for scratching his forehead and cheeks around his eyes instead of taking the eyes themselves. I scratched deep, so blood started running down his face. Then I let him go and walked over to the table where my laundry basket and books were waiting. I sat on the table itself, knees curled up to my body. The woman came over to check if I was okay, while other library customers surrounded the pervert librarian. I'm not sure if they were taking him away or what, but they obviously saw him (correctly) as the bad guy and wanted to protect the library customers (including me) from him. I don't know if I got my laundry home after that. I just know that I felt simultaneously less confident because I'd been careless and almost paid for it, and more confident because now I knew that I really could defend myself when needed. Sickened to think that it was ever needed, and vindicated that nobody had blamed me when they'd seen how the person I was defending myself against had behaved. It was... a lot. Until next I wander.