I opened my eyes as if I had just had a nightmare. I soon jumped out of my Spiderman sheeted bed. I didn’t bother to make my bed, because my father would just do it for me.  I ran to the kitchen pretending I was a track star, who’s prize was an extra big bowl of Cheerios: with sliced strawberries and blueberries in it. I climbed the counter to reach the large yellow box from atop the colossal stainless steel refrigerator.  As I slid the box closer to me with my fingertips, I opened my mahogany cabinet.  I grabbed a black clay bowl from the shiny brown cupboard. The cabinet creaked like an antique house as I slowly shut it.  The bowl that I had chosen was all black except for in the bottom of the bowl.  The bottom of the bowl reminded me of the sunset on rippling water.  It was a vibrant yellow and orange with a black swirl that began in the center of the bowl.  The swirl twirled until it was lost in the sea of darkness that was black.  I finally got the cheerios close enough to grab it as I finished hypnotically staring at my bowl. The cardboard box was colder than I thought it would be. It was especially weird to me because my father said that the weather that night would be scorching. The box was half full, but still felt quite heavy to my young arms.  I slid off the counter like a rocket and hastily slammed my bowl onto my tall black table. The table was wood with a glass top. It had a black, metal x-stretcher. I immediately put the box of cereal to the left of my beautiful bowl and ran to the fridge like a chicken with its head cut off. I grabbed the plastic boxes of strawberries and blueberries. I walked back to the table and set the fruit nicely on the right of my bowl.  As I paced back to the refrigerator, I prepared my arms for the heaving of our newly bought milk. As I began to lift the milk off the bottom shelf of the fridge, my eyes seemed to pop out of my head, and my arms began to hurt.  I lugged myself across the room towards the table which seemed like miles away.  When I got closer to the table, I used all the strength in my body to lift it onto the tall wooden table.  I poured my cereal as careful as someone can pour cereal. I, then, put the chopped strawberries and blueberries in the enormous amount of Cheerios I had already.  I snatched the milk soon after I put the fruit in.  I struggled to lift up the milk with my young muscles. I began to pour the milk into the bowl when the milk slipped out of my hand, bounced off the table and spilled all over the floor. My dad instantaneously came out when the milk slipped out of my hands. I was frozen for a moment.  Half the gallon had poured out by the time my father stopped just watching and picked it up.  He howled at me as I began to weep. My father continued to scream at me while I cried over the spilt milk.  My father continued to scold me for about a half an hour later. I finally ate my soggy cereal. It tasted like a stack of paper. The stack had a few sweet spots where Kool-Aid must have been spilled on it. My father, as I was putting a spoonful of blueberries in my mouth, told me to play a video game after breakfast for he had to prepare to go to the park with me. I hastened the horrible food into my stomach like a bullet.  The park with my dad was the most amazing time I have ever had.  We would always make the half mile trek through this dense forest on a designated path for walkers and bikers.  The forest was green and brown for as far as you could see. From the moss to the trees, I would only see the most beautiful thing in the world. You could see squirrels roaming, fallen trees, and most times campers.  The campers were always heavily bearded, dirty, had no style, and there. They never had tents. I figured they were so dirty, because they slept on the ground. I had never seen one eat either. Occasionally they would have a shopping cart. My dad would sometimes let me give loaves of bread to these men. They always thanked me a million times and smiled without teeth.  The smile made me feel a lot better each other.  Most times my father would give them a plastic baggie of straws, or paper, or something in exchange for money.   As I finished that thought, I also finished my bowl of cereal. I ran as fast as I could to the living room to play the Xbox. I pushed the button to turn it on a little harder than it was meant to be pushed.  I sat down on the brown soft couch and began to play my favorite game, Fable. You start as a kid and grow up to be good or evil based on your decisions in the game.  It would also make you look good with a halo or evil with horns. I had played for about four months now and couldn’t advance until I beat this one level where you had to rescue a little girl from like 70 trolls. They were hard to kill as is, but 70 was nearly impossible. The trolls would nearly die from one slash with your sword, but they were quick and would dodge shots too.  There was no possible way to take out all 70 of the white monstrous gnomes. My dad always told me there was a certain trick to it. He knew because he had beaten it multiple times. He would never tell me though, because he wanted me to figure it out by myself.  This time, I was sure that I would get it. I went into the cave I was supposed to go to. I entered the chamber where dozens of trolls were. I snuck by and told the little girl to follow me. She must have had cymbals on her feet because immediately, the trolls all began to attack me. I killed about 15 of them before I noticed that I was about to die. I sprinted out of the chamber and into the main cave where no one could be found. The little girl followed close behind.  I was almost to the exit when I noticed a trolls 7 times bigger than the rest in the doorway. I had never seen him before.  He had paper whit skin with black hair and eyes with yellow pupils.  His eyes were scary because the black was darker than the night, and the yellow reminded me of the stereotypical lightning bolt.  I only had time to admire his appearance before he smashed me.  The screen blankly said game over.  I grew to be extremely irritated with this giant troll.  He must’ve been the king of the trolls. I needed to beat that level right now.  Therefore, I was going to formally ask my dad for help because he could beat it in less than 5 minutes, and we could go to the park happier and quicker. I walked down the purple painted hallway with the white trim on the bottom of the wall.  I stopped at the tall wooden door that was my father’s.  I opened the door silently and saw my 25 year old father with a blue pipe with black and orange designs on it. My dad had his mouth on it and was sucking in as if he was a beginner at the recorder. I didn’t know what it was but it looked like tobacco burning and smelled like a skunk in his room.  As I started to ask if I could get help, my father looked up and saw me staring. He shot up hiding this pipe and screamed at me.  Then I opened my eyes from the nightmare that has been recurring every week since I was seven when my mom told me I couldn’t see my dad again.