I'm walking outside in a slum of a town and a man comes up to me. He says, "We've just moved to the neighborhood. These are my two boys." One is small and brown with black hair, the other is white with blond hair and taller. I take them to one of their houses and it's pretty run down. I'm really happy for them. "You're going to like the Westside of the city" I said. "I used to live here and it was my favorite place I've ever lived!" We keep walking through the neighborhood. Then we get to my house and my dad is outside helping the neighbors by doing small easy household stuff on a work bench. He sands something smooth and spray paints something else. I walk inside the house alone and go to the sink where there are dirty dishes and look outside the window where my dad's car is and I think to myself, "Wow, he's really dead. I didn't think I would feel sad, but now that he's actually gone, I feel really sad." At this point the dream continued on but changed scenes. I can't remember what happened next. I wake up later.