... the dreams that made me cry

About six years ago, my grandmother had asked me to look for my father. My father had been disfellowshipped for over 40 years, and no one had contact with him for eons. The last time we heard was about ten years ago, when my grandfather, in an attempt to help him, would take him to meetings and gave him a job in my grandfather's bumper repair shop, where he also lived. It didn't go well. My father had became addicted to drugs and he stole things to pay for his habit, including my grandfather's RV. This caused my grandfather to put a temporary restraining order against him to protect the family. So, he disappeared.

So, I began to search for my father, by checking public records and locating addresses. My grandparents would drive there and attempt to locate him, but no luck. We didn't know if he were alive or dead. Then I had this dream:

I was in a van with other people. I don't know who they are, I did not recognize them. We were driving around, searching for my father. I looked out the window, and shouted, "There he is!" We all jumped out. My father was wearing a 19th century overcoat, with a vest and pant and cravat. He had a stovepipe hat on top of his head. He was walking along, with a sandwich board over his shoulders advertising something that I couldn't read. I ran up to him and said, "Dad! Dad! I've been looking all over for you. He looked at me like I was a stranger, sort of leaning back, with a wary expression on his face.  "It's me, Patrick!" I cried, "I'm so glad you're alive!" He didn't say anything. His expression didn't change. I started to sob, and fell to my knees and hugged him around his legs, crying "Dad! Dad!"  I was sobbing uncontrollably and then...

I woke up with a jolt. My chest was compressed and I wasn't breathing. Then I slowly started breathing and my temse body relaxed and I just laid there, thinking. i fell asleep again, but no dreams came.

The second one I had was this:

I was in a living room. I was talking to someone that i felt was a friend. He had really long hair, with a ball cap on his head. He was relating to me how his father had been in a war, and wanted me to meet him. I did not know this man, had never seen him before, but i felt connected, so I nodded. Then his father came in the room. His father had no shirt. He wore a turban on his head. His beard was white and pointed. He had lost both hands. One arm came to the mid-forearm and stopped. The other arm was amputated at the elbow. The old man talked about the fighting he had been through. As I listened to the store, I was overcome with emotion at something so tragic happened to this man. I began to cry and laid my hand on his shoulder, telling him how sorry I was. I began to sob, and then...

I woke up, not breathing, gasping for breath. I calmed down and then wondered who that old guy was.