Quentin Tarantino has now officially fucked with my dreams.

I was having a graduation party, the one that I am supposed to have one week from today at the city park, but this one was at my mother's house. We set up a tarp as a giant tent to sleep under that was attached to someones van, and we had set the sleeping bags out although it seemed to be only three or four o'clock. I remember feeling nervous, but only slightly, as it began to rain. As the heavy drops poured down around us, I began to lose track of the friends who had previously been at my side, and that is when I saw my father. He had a look on his face that made me immediately grab something to defend myself with. This object happened to be a two by four and I took a few swings without even knowing why. But my dad was fast, much faster than I had ever seen him move, he had also lost weight, which is probably the reason he could move so quickly. With a look to kill he pulled out a switch blade and advanced upon me. At that point I remebered that the sleeping bags were still getting wet due to the tarp's poor positioning. So as I was evading death at the hand of my father, I also began shoving sleeping bags into their stuff sacks. Without a word, my friends started running and driving away. I ran too, but in the wrong direction, and found myself on the outdoor stairs knocked down with my dad on top of me. He had the knife to my throat and was screaming at me to get up. It was malicious and petrifying but I was not afraid to die, I was scared for my dad, because I knew that if he killed me his life would end too, that maybe it already had; and I kept trying to rationalize why the man who had taught me to become a man could snap so easily. As I got up I was able to make it to the front door of our house, but the door (which we have never locked in our ten years living their) was, of course, deadbolted. As I stood pounding at the door knowing my dad was only a few steps behind me, Jason, an old childhood friend opened the door and broke down in laughter, "Mike's dad took Dr. A. Seriously and wants to train him to fight like the assassins in Kill Bill." I thus came to realize that I was not Dave Reed after all, I was now "Mike" whose dad was trying to teach him to kill. I (no longer Mike) sat there in shock for a while and tried to work out the preceding events, but then I woke up.

And thus, Mr. Tarrantino, your goal to fuck with people has fucked with me.