The dream version

    In the dream version, Dad was also motorin' with a walker. In one instance, he hit a glass coffee table and cut himself up a lot, but for some reason my dream mind just shrugged this off. He was fixed up with stitches and motored off again with a leg like Frankenstein's monster. Then he was motorin' off to some gymnasium I've imagined for the facility. At first it was a huge glass-walled room not entirely unlike their rehab room in real life but bigger and glassier. Then it became a huge underground hockey rink type facility. How I know this I don't know since I could never find it. I kept trying though, including going down a passage that became a tunnel I could only crawl through and which didn't go anywhere anyway.
    I eventually gave up and went back to his room, or a room, in this dream a place with a commodious kitchen. I was preparing untold numbers of vegetables, and thinking "He's getting better; why am I cooking all these vegetables?" Anyway, for a stress-induced lost in a big building dream complete with blood and stitches, it was really surprisingly cheerful.