If I could be anywhere right now, it would be riding a bike down Venice Beach at sunset. I’m listening to my music: Alice Cooper, Bob Dylan, Neil Young, Blue Cheer. There are classic cars lined up on the curb; the sunset is warm pink. I spot a woman wearing a hoodie that says If I Was a Woman. My mind is blown because I’m suddenly wondering—even though I am a woman—what would I do if I was a woman? If I was a woman, I’d abandon the bike and bring my music to the beach: CCR, The Doors, Chicago, The Beatles. I’d stand on the shore and stare at the sunset while listening to my music. I’d buy something I’ve never worn before. If I was a woman, I’d know that I don’t have to buy anything—love, success, attention. If I was a woman, I’d forget my age. I’d talk to strangers. I’d be even more of a woman. I’d leave womanly graffiti everywhere I went. I take another look at that woman’s hoodie and realize that it actually says It Was All a Dream. Somehow, that brings me comfort. As if I could wake up from my life and find the day ahead of me offering me a fresh start. No past. Only what I choose to do from this moment on. Until night. Then I could wake up again and do everything differently. Ride down Venice Beach like I never saw it before. Like I never saw myself before. Fall in love with myself for the first time, but without narcissism. Really love myself, precisely because I can’t remember me. Maybe it’s the things I remember about myself that give me a bad impression of me. I keep thinking it’s the sand and the waves and the sunset that will help me understand love, but maybe it’s leaving behind the past. When I see the ocean, I forget. But I need to let go. Become a woman all over again. The past is a dream. It was all a dream.