My father was seriously mentally ill, at a time when psychiatry hadn't made the progressions it has made nowadays. He was receiving no treatment at all, and was on no medication. His thinking was delusional, and his ways were rigid. He was a religious extremist. If the Bible says the husband is the head of the household, then by golly, that means he and only he makes any decisions around the house, and nobody else gets a say, including my mother. He was stern, harsh, and unreasonable in the rules he set.

In addition, he had what I call a Waltons complex. By this I mean he deliberately kept us poor by sabotaging his jobs, while forbidding my mother to work, thinking that poor families such as the Waltons on TV are closer to each other. He made us stand out from our classmates and neighborhood kids by not dressing in the same style, and not being allowed to stay up as late, go out and socialize as much, or watch the same TV shows.

After my mother had divorced him when I was 7 years old, and then remarried him when I was 12, I had not seen him since I was 15. That's when my mother packed us up and left him for good, after he (trigger warning), I'll put it in white so it won't be immediately visible. You can scroll over it with the mouse if you want to see what he did.) He beat the living daylights out of my brother, and then threatened to hunt us down and take our lives if Mom left him again. He even put it in writing. When Mom took his note to the family therapist, she took one look at the bold, sharp, heavy-pressure writing and said, "Get out. He means it."

He died in the late 1980's at the age of 47, alone in his trailer, from a massive heart attack. He had been at least a three-pack-a-day smoker. We were long gone by then, and didn't know for another 20 years that he was dead, when my brother was doing genealogical research and came upon his death certificate in the archives of that state.

But many times, including last night, I have dreamed of him as a loving, affectionate man with a smile on his face, providing what we needed and being supportive. In my dreams he is a wonderful dad.

Am I simply dreaming him the way I wish he was? Or even dreaming him the way HE wishes he was?