Quite frankly I don't even want to write this - but I think it's better I get it out and recieve some help on what it could mean.

*Background that might relate to the story*

-I'm 17.

-My father is crazy. Litterally. He sees events in dreams or makes them up in his head and thinks they are real/has bad paranoia (not sure what it's called, but probably isn't nessesary for our purposes.

-With my father being crazy and I/we not knowing it for most of my life - I thought he was just a creepy d***head and never really cared for him or would no matter what happens (important for the dream). In this respect for him I am a sociopath.

-For the last 7 or 8 months I've been heavily studying mathematics to get good enough to fullfil my dream of becoming a physicist (and consequently after doing it for awhile almost wanted to rather be a mathematician!)
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Now for the dream. Very, very messed up - you've been warned.

So it started out with me listening to some philosophy. I was watching the Yale philosophy lecture on Dualism and what happens when we die, just because I like philosophy - and I drifted off to sleep.

The first major thing that happened was this car full of gangsters (I mean the Italian stereotypical type) pulled up to my parents house. Out comes this huge guy with a slight smerk on his face, whom promptly approaches me and says he's looking for my dad - he owes him money or something. I tell the gangster he probably isn't inside but that I'd look around for him. About this time a bunch of people in the limo/car get out, all with weapons, one guy has a like 6 meter long whip. (Gets weird here) I start walking to the side of the house to see if he's around back, and the big Italian guy has a big beer bottle in his hand, and swings it at me, stopping just before hitting me as I flinch and step back. So I start walking faster as he dissapears in the background, and manage to get to the other side of the house before the gangster with the really long whip lashes it - and it goes all the way around the house and nearly catches me.

I start running toward a house up the road where my father is, and go upstairs in the house where he is and tell him there are people waiting outside the house for him that want to see him. I knew this wasn't going to end well. (Don't read further if you're squeemish)

He gets up from bed and walks casually down to the door - walks outside, the big gangster with the bottle spoke with him for a moment, though I couldn't hear what was being said. Suddenly the big Italian guy shatters a chunk of the bottle over my dads head, sending my poor (weak by the way, he's never been a 'tough guy') father back. And something that I don't think ever happened before occured - I felt pain in watching this happen to him (since I hated him most of my life, this was like seeing color for the first time). The gangster wasn't content; he took the broken bottle and stabbed my father and ripping him down his side expelling his innards as well as tore half his face off. This new feeling took over me completely - and I broke down crying at the sight of this, my dad's ragdoll body being thrown around and ripped and torn until his life was extinguished and left dead on the concrete outside the house.

I couldn't stop crying - real life or dream I had never cried so hard. He was gone - my father whom I shunned so and cared less about was the cause of my grief. In real life I was lucky enough to not have a loved one die - but up to this point in the dream I couldn't imagine the feeling of having that happen being any different than this.

The scene changed. My mother and I were in a mall years after the death, and I was still crying. Dry heaving while my mother hadn't shed one single tear at hearing of his death or at the funeral or now. 'Good riddance' radiated from her. We were looking for a job for me here in the mall (more dream weirdness, I guess). I looked at her and said "wait...I'm not a mathematician, yet!?", and she replied with a resounding and hating "NO." I was crushed. My life long dream of mastering math crushed - I had failed.

Shortly after I awoke. This was by far the most shaking dream I had ever experinced. I virtually never remember my dreams, and the ones I do are usually just strange and dumb stuff my mind probably needed to sift through from the day of work or school or whatever. But upon waking up from this dream I can't think of my father emotionlessly now, it's more just happiness that...he's still alive! That, and I'm kind of freaked out my mind could possibly conjure up such a violent thing.

What do you guys think of this? I'm a believer in the subconscious trying to tell you things - what could this mean? I was told I wasn't a mathematician in the dream - is my subconscious telling me I'm simply not cut out for that line of work? Should I be trying to pursue other job avenues? I won't quit trying simply because of a dream I had, but the question will be in the back of my head if I can't construct some sort of answer. Anyway, thanks for reading my screwed up story, any help will be much appreciated.