Last night I dreamt that my father was sick and dying, and first of all I came home from a long trip and everybody was saying that he was dead. Then I realized that he was still alive; he was just real sick. And he was home from the hospital for a while and he was laying in our bed, and he seemed to just want to be by himself. We were all eating this cereal from this triangular box. There were all these family coming into town, and I really didn't want to see them. I just wanted to be alone. And let's see what else. When I woke up, I actually had to wipe real tears from my eyes. I don't remember too much more.