I've hired a private investigator to find my father. She finds him quite quickly, which surprises me. I meet her in some sort of empty grey nondescript kind of room, we sit at a table. She lays out all these papers in front of me, and tells me that he has been going by the name of Joe, which is not his birth name. Some of these papers are pictures, and I am shocked to be looking at the image of the man that is supposed to be my Father. The man looks nothing like I thought he would look like. I've never seen the face of my father though, not clearly, so I suppose there is no reason for this feeling. One of the pictures is strange, it looks a bit like an animated .gif image that cycles through a few head shots of him. The investigator tells me that there isn't very much family resemblance, which doesn't surprise me. I've always looked like my Mom. She tells me that Joe is working as an actor on a British Soap Opera/Comedy kind of production, it reminds me a bit like "Fools & Horses", and that he's actually doing quite well for himself. I am surprised at this, as from what I've heard of my father, he wasn't the type for such an extroverted profession. Flash forward to the meeting. I don't know where we are, in a trailer of some sort maybe. It seems dimly lit and there are wood panels and brown carpet. We're talking, but not about anything in particular. I can tell he's uncomfortable and doesn't want to talk about any issues or hard questions. He talks about his work mostly, then finds an excuse to leave the room and I am left with his girlfriend. His girlfriend seems fairly nice. She's an attractive blond that is much younger than him. She is dressed kind of boho chic I guess. We make polite conversation. She tells me a few things about him, including why some of his ear is missing (I don't remember the reason) and that leads us to talking about plastic surgery, which she seems really interested in. She asks me to get us some ice cream from the freezer. It's a crazy complicated and extensive compartmentalized freezer with at least 10 different slots for ice cream. The slots are all filled up with all kinds of novelty ice creams, much like you would see on an ice cream truck. I don't know which to pick. My father isn't much help, telling me to just pick whatever.
Ignored markers - new territory. My cousin... helped me ... in a school setting? But all worked out because I accomplished the goal and was able to plug into society properly. I was in the upper crust of society. Well off, very. It was a carry over from a previous phase in the dream, so I guess this is a fragment. I had duties to perform. There was a car that my father helped me with. I couldn't figure it out on my own, but he didn't have enough time himself. The battery was full of acid though, you can tell because the liquid was low and the red indicator was exposed. When they get like this they could explode, my father said. I took the acid bomb out of my vehicle and placed it on the floor of the back seat. It was uncomfortable. ...skip...? I needed something further, and my father obliged. He was a gorilla, and he sacrificed his large, majestic form for my needs: parts of his skull and his forearms were given to me. The procedure was done instantly, and I was whole, the mirror revealed. Father couldn't close his face. He stood there looking as if he was waiting to die, or perhaps I hoped he would die for the cruelty my need imposed on him. His large gorilla hands were crudely shoved into the ends of his arms, and he stood there unable to close his face, looking at me. The horror he suffered. The sacrifice he made. Sceneflash... he's no longer a gorilla, but well dressed. The head trauma is no longer there, he is able to speak, but his human hands are still crudely pushed into the ends of his shortened human arms. They are covered by his nice pullover sweater, but when he extends his arms to hug me his hands spin downwards. We agree to go somewhere but something isn't right. I understand his body language to reveal his dark intention, and I parallel his foot movements, aware of a computer controlled sniper rifle behind me, watching me, awating his whispered command. He won't dare fire it as long as I am behind him. When we get out of range I let him know that I was aware as I stand up next to him. Awaken - the horror on his face from the previous surgery still fresh in my mind.
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