Warning. You may not want to read it. It's graphic. But it's here if you do, if not go ahead and skip this paragraph.
The dream went like this..
My Dad and I were holding hands and walking down a flight of stairs into what seemed like a basement. It had only four walls and was very simple. There were no windows, or doors. Nobody could see in or out. And there was only a pipe in the corner of the room from ceiling to floor. My Dad looked at me and continuously told me that everything was going to be okay. I would be okay. It's okay if I let go of his hand. As soon as I let go of his hand, he ran full speed into that pole. And did it over and over again until he died. All I could do was stand there and watch. I had no control over my body. I couldn't help him.. I would always wake up crying and wouldn't be able to go back to sleep.
My Senior year of high school, I took a Psychology class with one of my favorite teachers. In that class we had a dream unit. A couple of students from each class had the opportunity to go up and sit in a chair next to the teacher and get a dream interpreted. I decided that I really wanted to know what that dream I kept having mean, and I'm a fairly open person so I didn't mind talking about it in front of the class. It was very awkward sitting up there when I first started talking about my dream. Doing this lead me to discover what exactly that dream meant. My Dad wanted me to know that I would be okay without him. I was always afraid that nobody would believe me when it came to things that happened between my Dad and I, hence the no windows so nobody could see what happened. I was scared of losing him. I didn't want to let go, but eventually, I had to. I couldn't sit there and always watch my Dad to stop him every time he tried to leave me. It was going to happen if I wanted it to or not. I had no control over him leaving. I did have control over how I felt about it though, and that it was not my fault. I had no way of stopping him. It made me so happy to finally know what that meant, and I haven't had that dream since.
Now lets fast forward to when I was in 10th grade. I went to this ridiculous private school that I ended up getting out of after my sophomore year. In this school I only had classes on Tuesdays, and Thursdays. It was time for my mom to pick me up from school after class and I hung out with some friends while I waited, and waited, and waited. I began to grow very impatient. Eventually I called her, but she didn't answer. I kept calling her but she still would not answer. I was starting to really worry and wonder what was going on. Finally she called me back and told me that Tim Cooper would be picking me up (He worked and shared an office with my Dad, and they became good friends). Then my Mom just hung up on me. Soon Tim picked me up and asked if I was hungry or anything. I was, but I quickly said that I wasn't and wanted to just see my Mom, by then I was just worried to think of or do anything else..
We got to my Dads work and again, there were a bunch of people there. I then find out that my Dad had tried to escape to Vegas. Yeah, Vegas haha. He wanted to see the Belagio fountains one more time before he died. He had sent a letter to our house that we wouldn't get until a few more days. The letter stated where he had gone, why, and that by the time we got the letter he would be dead. Somehow, I have no idea how.. my Mom figured all of this information out, and called the airport security. She told them everything that was going on, had to send them proof, and got them to stop my Dad from getting on that plane, just minutes before it was supposed to take off. Now again, we drove to that town. He was then put into another mental hospital, this time for longer.
Eventually, my Dad somehow convinced the hospital to let him out. And they were stupid enough to do so. Normally, they have to go to a judge and go through a certain process before they could let him out. My Dad was always good at manipulating people into doing things, so I guess it came in handy then and there. He came home to my Mom and I which followed with a long talk of my Mom telling him that he wasn't aloud to stay with us anymore. That we couldn't handle it anymore.
You see, for as long as I could remember my Dad was very abusive and controlling. But now people knew. When he was in the hospital there was nothing stopping us from finally being able to get some help. I was so proud of my Mom for finally sticking up and telling him to leave. I knew it was a very hard thing to do.
My Dad then grabbed his stuff and left.
(To Be Continued..)
