Jennifer was standing in a meadow, a meadow full of blooming flowers. Her mother, her new mother, that is, was there, too, gathering flowers and humming happily to herself. Jennifer couldn't believe what she was seeing - this was the woman her father had become, but...this wasn't a thing like her father! Her dad had always been tense and reserved, like he was keeping something back. She'd always thought that meant he was angry at them, and sometimes he'd snap at them over something seemingly trivial, and that lent credence to her theory. But...here was her dad, now her mom, doing things she never would have done, ever, and it looked like she couldn't be happier about it. "Mom?" she asked, incredulous.
She turned. "Oh, Jennifer!" she smiled. "Come here, dear! Aren't the flowers lovely?"
Jennifer simply stood there, mouth agape. "Mom?" she asked again, "is that really you?"
"Yes," her mom laughed, "it's really me. In fact, it's really me. Now come here, dear, I want to talk to you."
Jennifer obeyed; she was used to doing that much, anyway. Her mother sat her down in the grass, among the flowers, and began to thread daisies into her hair. "Mom!" she protested. "Don't do that! I'm not a girl!"
"Yes, you are, dear," her mother smiled.
"But I used to be a boy!" Jennifer complained. "I'm not supposed to do all this girly stuff everyone's making me do! You said so yourself, a lot of times!"
Her mom smiled sadly. "That's what I wanted to talk about," she sighed. "You see, Jenny, I haven't been a very good father to you kids. I spent most of your lives trying to get you to conform to my ideal of what you should be, because I was frustrated with myself for not fitting my ideal of what I should be. Now that I look at it from a different perspective, I can see that I was wrong about a lot of things, one of which is the standards I held you kids to. I still don't hold with the 'whatever you want to do is always okay' crowd, but I told you that a whole lot of things that are perfectly fine were unacceptable for boys, just like I told your sisters that a lot of acceptable things were unacceptable for girls. I guess what I'm trying to say here is that I want you to be whoever you really are, not who I wanted you to be. I don't want you to worry about what is and isn't okay for boys, just what is and isn't okay for everyone. And on that note, I want you to hold still for a minute, because you'll look so nice with a daisy crown."
Jennifer was too stunned to argue about the flowers her mother was currently placing around her head. Was this for real? Did her mother really mean that much of what she'd been taught her whole life was...wrong? It was so strange to contemplate.
"There you are, dear!" her mom laughed. "What did I tell you? You look wonderful. There's a pond over that way; I think you could see yourself pretty clearly in it. Go on!"
Jennifer wasn't too crazy about the flowers, but she was used to doing what her parents told her to do. And...now that she knew her mom had feelings, she didn't want to hurt them. Trotting over to the pond, she looked in. She could see quite clearly, as a matter of fact; ripples aside, the surface of the water was almost mirror-like. It was all so ethereal - was she dreaming? She remembered going to sleep, and then she was here, in a meadow, in her nightgown...maybe it was a dream, but it was a good dream, then. In the mirror was a pretty little tabby cat-girl with the loveliest daisy crown imaginable. She tried, but she couldn't deny that she really was pretty, especially with her mother's loving handiwork on her head. Darn it, her plan to not be a girl was not going very well. What was she going to do if-
Suddenly, the water was dominated by a looming shadow. "What the hell are you doing?" a gruff voice demanded. Looking up, Jennifer beheld a burly old man who looked not unlike her mother used to. "Wh-who are you?" she asked, a little frightened by the old man's demeanor.
He picked her up one-handed, a huge hand clamped around her waist. "Wassis?" he muttered. "Flowers? God, has that kid of mine raised a bunch of fucking queers?"
Jennifer suddenly got her wits about her. "'Queers?'" she said. "I'm-I'm not gay!"
He spat. "Don't lie to me, brat!" he snarled. "I'm not stupid. I know damn well you're a boy. Hell, I even heard you saying so. So what the hell do you think you're doing with all these flowers and shit, fairy?"
"I put those on her." It was her mother's voice, but much sterner and more decisive in tone than before. "Put her down."
The old man dropped Jennifer, who landed gently on the grass and ran to her mother's side. "Goddammit, kid," he said, "look at yourself! You're in a skirt, running around in a field of flowers like a fucking hippie! You call yourself a man!?"
Jennifer's mom looked like she was about to cringe and give in, but she suddenly drew herself up to her full height. "No," she said. "I don't. And I shouldn't have, all those years I was following your example. You told me wrong, Dad. Manhood isn't keeping everything inside you and acting macho. Manhood is being strong for those who need you. It's showing real courage, not tough-guy bravado. Manhood is what my wife is displaying right now. I don't know if I can call myself a woman, whatever form I'm in, but until I get you and your screwed-up morals out of my head, I'm not calling myself a man. Now get out. Get out of my mind, and get out of my daughter's dream. Go."
Seething, the old man spat and abruptly vanished. All the fright Jennifer had held back when she was under his scathing questioning came rushing back to her, and she burst into tears. "There," her mother said. "It's all right. He's gone, and he's not coming back, not into your dream, anyway. You're safe now. I won't let anything happen to my child." Sitting down on the grass, she laid Jennifer's head in her lap and gently stroked her hair. As the tears subsided, Jennifer drifted back into the waking world.