Real Father vs. Fake Father

I've had some really weird dreams lately, and I've been meaning to blog about them, but I didn't know if I wanted to post them or not. What the heck? I'll just post.

The first one I call Real Father vs. Fake Father.

I was headed up to Idaho or something, and was to be meeting my grandmother at her house. I was running late and decided that I didn't have time to get dressed. So I took a shower and got in to my car completely naked. I was speeding the whole time, hoping that I would not get pulled over due to my state of undress.

There's been a lot of construction on I-15, and so I didn't catch the sign that said, "YOUR CONSENT IS GIVEN TO BE FILMED IF YOU CONTINUE ON THIS ROAD!" The road had split into two, and the one on the left had less traffic, so I took it. Apparently, they were filming for a movie, and by driving down that fork of the highway, you were saying that they could use the image of you and your car in the movie. The creative director had my car pulled over because he had taken a fancy to Louise, my silver '97 Plymouth Breeze, and wanted to use it for other scenes in the movie.

Nobody, including myself, seemed to be bothered by the fact that I was naked. They did give me a robe, and asked me to sit in the waiting room while they cleaned and polished my car -- primping her for her movie debut. While in the waiting room, my "dad" approached me. I was happy to see him and asked him how long I would be waiting for my car to finish up because he knew that I should be at grandma's by now. He got this really serious look on his face and was like, "Shelli, it's time you knew."

The dialogue gets hazy here, and I'm not sure what he told me. But at the end of it, he introduced me to my REAL father and I was pissed at fake dad.

Real Dad

 I didn't want to talk to him anymore and I immediately started cozy-ing up to my real dad, trying to get to know him and make up for all the lost years I've had with him. Dad told me that I should be nice to my fake dad because he had spent all those years raising me, and it wasn't really his fault that we had been separated. I didn't want to listen, but then I looked over at the table and my fake dad had morphed into a helpless two-year old.

Fake Dad as a Baby

I was annoyed and still very angry, but you can't just leave a two-year old to fend for himself. Fake dad, now in diapers, decided to go for a walk and out the door he went. I looked over to Dad, and he just nodded after the bald baby. I rolled my eyes and followed him out. The baby, or fake dad, walked to the store to get some milk and then headed to a bridge where it was pouring down rain and he was going to jump.

I was worried that he really would jump, so I scooped him up and carried him back to the waiting room.