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She knew mainly that my father had gone to jail and I had called the cops on him. Given those past circumstances, it wasn’t a good time for my dad and I. The dreams continued and increased in intensity. I finally made the decision to call my dad and try to talk to him about it. Dad was very cold to me during these years. The initial post-prison courteous report we had between us was gone. Dad had grown angry at me and became a dark character. He had little interest in being real with me or being a dad. Before I called him to talk about the dreams, I rehearsed what I was going to say to him. I tried to lay out some lines and ideas that I wanted to cover and do my best to get across to him. When I called him and tried talking to him, he listened. When I got to the part of the dreams and used the term “nightmare”, he had one reaction.

He laughed at me. I don’t know why I was thrown off by it, but I was a bit.

It wasn’t a belly laugh. It was more like a chuckle that wasn’t so silent under his breath.

He said, “Well, I can’t help you.”

I pleaded with him to talk about it with me, but he refused. I think he thought it was all a big joke, or that my suffering was more drama than reality. He just was not ready to go to that place with me. I realized my nightmares about mental rejection and emotional denunciation would be all a wealth all my own for now. I still prayed that one day it would be resolved.

Painfully honest and shockingly raw, Greatest Hits is Ernest Sewell's debut memoir. Initially posing as a clever playlist of song-titled chapters, each section actually reveals not the top ten list of his best moments but rather the greatest hits he took growing up.

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