The year was 1930. I know because I asked someone. I think who I asked was my girlfriend. In a large, open, public building of some sort, I had poured out my feelings for her. I told her she was who I thought of when I thought of what it was to be a woman. When she didnt quite understand me, I said hers was the image that kept swimming into my mind. Later we were on a train, a wide, rich, warm train with an ornate dining car. We were relaxed, but we were also part of a small group making dangerous plans. On our way off the train at some station, I said in passing to a couple of painted ladies at a table, "The only part that sucks is that Im going to have to wake up eventually. I love it here!" Later, in a car, we went thru a drive-thru (oddly modern, but it didnt seem out of place at the time). I thought the guy behind the window probably knew my secret. He palmed a couple of quarters as he took our order. I was sure they would have anachronistic markings on them, and so his suspicions would be confirmed. I wasnt entirely sure it mattered, but instinct had been telling me I should keep my future origins mostly secret. My girlfriend knew. We speculated that maybe a lot more of this sort of thing went on than any of us had thought.