I was 21 years old. My father was Jerry Lewis. I was going to go to the show. He and I were very close. We were hugging and touching all the time. The thought "incestuous relationship" came to mind, but I dismissed it because it didn't feel sexual. It felt suffocating and cloying. He loved me so much that he needed to be near me all the time. He treated me like a child. I wanted to see a particular movie because of a good looking movie star. He refused to let me. He was jealous of my interest in this other man. I told him, "Hey, I'm 21 years old." He looked hurt and scared. He sneered and said, "If you see this man, I'll cut you off from my money. Ha! How will you support yourself?" I felt confident, strong. I said, "I have skills and talents." I listed some and added that I could type 70 words a minute and if I had to, I could be a clerk-typist. I wouldn't starve. I left him. I felt sad to leave him but I knew I must go to be free to grow. I traveled alot. I think I went to college. I was in a dorm room. A woman came in, young. She was going to help me and that would be a nice surprise for me, a gift. She was going to fix up my room. I hid in the closet. She talked to me even though she didn't know where I was. She came to the closet. She said, "I'm going to sort your clothes and I'll mend any that have rips in them." I hid in my blue bathrobe in the middle of the rack. She started at one end. She picked up a dress. It was frilly and small, like for a young girl. She said, "I don't know why you chose this dress. It was silly of you to do it. You could have had the other. It was better," (I think the other was a serviceable sweat shirt). I felt somewhat embarrassed and amazed that I had chosen the baby dress. She started telling me she was jealous of me because I could always do everything so well, and I always got everything she wanted. I felt badly for her. I came out of the closet to talk with her. Then I heard an awful buzzing. I looked at the window. There were giant bees that looked like chickens that had flown in the room. Their heads were in the room, but their bodies were still outside. They were dangerous. We got scared and decided to leave the room. As we got to the door, one got in. He flew out down the hall and I tried to shut the door and he flew back into the room and I got out of the room and tried to shut the door. The woman handed me a rifle. She said to kill it. It was a 3030 rifle. "This is the only size gun that will kill it." I started to take aim. A man (perhaps Howard), was holding the bee (now a cute black puppy), so I could kill it. I told the man to get out of the way. If I missed, he'd get hurt. He laughed. He had total confidence in my ability. He would not move. I couldn't get him to, so I took careful aim. The gun was covered with papers and a screw was loose. I tightened it up. It was complex and difficult, but I got the gun fixed. I took careful aim at the head of the bee/puppy and fired. I got it. It slowly died. It was awful to see. Then I went down the hall. My "father" was there. He was semi-laying on a waiting room bench. He looked old and ill, a dazed look in his eyes. He caught my hand and begged me silently to listen to him. He kept asking, "Why, why, couldn't I have loved that man? Why did I decide he wouldn't do for my daughter? Because of him, she left me." I soothed him and said, "Hey, you can't love everybody. It's O.K." He looked tired and sad. I looked into his ears. A white milky substance was in them. I was examining him like a doctor. Another doctor (male), came up to watch. My father looked "caught" and said, "Oh why are you here? I don't want you to know." The male doctor picked him up to take him to the hospital. He had had a stroke and couldn't make his legs work. As he was being taken away, a cart with many beautiful things from all different foreign countries was coming down the hall for him. They were gifts from his daughter who was returning from his (her?) many travels to see him. Funeral or mystery music followed the cart.