You recall reading that the mould in blue cheese contained a chemical which produces lucid dreams when eaten in significant quantities. Since you have no excess money to spend on fancy spoiled cheeses, you might as well just resort to utilizing the mouldy cheese scattered all around your room from left-over half eaten hot pockets. Huzzah! You scarf down as much of the rotten cheese-like product as you can, and settle down for a mind blowing night of self directed dream world deliciousness!
In the midst of nothingness, your mind arises from a frothy blackness that expands out to the edges of comprehension. You are conscious though. The magic processed cheese mould has worked its science on your mind, and you feel completely in control of your bizarre state of being. Wisps of images you conjured not twist and swirl out of vision. Lawyering wrestlers and grotesque hornet men creatures grapple in a dumpster behind the pet shop. A bike gang of 9 year-olds pedal by and remove uzis from their back packs. A rain of blood and violence descend upon your dream, you fight to soar past it all and exit through the clouds on a bed of cockroaches. Your mother’s garden withers all around as a saucer shaped alien ship with glowing portholes shoots out from a giant pink slit hovering above you in the black sky. It floats down like a leaf settling its score with gravity through the wind. As it lands, a giant rod slowly ejects itself from the mid section in slowly undulating pulses. As it extends, a milky liquid poots itself onto the ground before you, and from it arises what must be your father! You don’t know his face, but in this dream world, there is no doubt to your mind that it is in fact him. Wow. This is heavy shit. How do you even respond to this?

If you choose to cry and hug your imagination of your absentee father, turn to page, WOW, SO SAD!

If you choose to play it cool and ask the part of your cheese addled subconscious pretending to be your father why he left you turn to page THE TRUTH IS OUT THERE!

If you choose to clock your phantom father in the face turn to page FIGHT THE FANTASY!