Inherited my father's cars in my dream last night, cars that he doesn't own.  Then watched him get attacked by a gator.

The cars were Corvettes.  He's owned a number of them through the years, Corvettes and Thunderbirds.  Actually, one of the Thurderbirds he owned, a turqoise 1965 convertible, made the dream.  It was the sole real car that I knew he'd owned in the dream.  The other Corvettes weren't recognized but there he was, proudly showing them off, exclaiming, "I hid them all these years.  They've been in storage."  Like that could be done, the way he's traveled the world. 

After the car show, we traveled across flat brown water in a skiff in the dream, arriving at a primitive house on stilts.  Inside was a small refrigerator but not much other furnishings.  A gator got in, a small red creature.  My tour guide, a portly white man, shooed it toward a side door.  The gator was leaving but Dad walked by it, oblivious to its presence.  "Watch out for the gator, Dad," I yelled, "Dad, the gator, Dad!" 

Apparently not hearing me, Dad opened the refrigerator.  Noticing him, the gator turned and nuzzled his leg.  Dad sort of shrugged it off, as though he was unaware of the threat.  The gator stood up on its back legs and tried biting Dad's neck and face.  Dad began fighting with it.

The end.