I said my parentage was unambiguous, but now I'm not so sure. Let me tell you about a dream I once had, the first dream I can remember:
It's set in Perth, Australia, my home for the first two years of life. I'm walking with my (biological) parents along a straight, two lane road high above the city. On either side are short grassy embankments, then cliffs plunging straight down a mile to the city below. As we walk, I suddenly turn into a squirrel, slip down an embankment, and plunge over the cliff into open air. I fall down to the city, return to human form, and am adopted by my new family (curiously, my adoptive parents look exactly like my biological parents - this detail never troubled me).
For several years of my early childhood I simply assumed that this was a memory, not a dream, and that I was, in fact, adopted. Only later, as my empirical knowledge of the world grew and I learned that transmogrification is exceptionally rare, did I conclude this was a product of my unstrung toddler-imagination.
But now I'm wondering if there was some truth to it. Ma. Pa. 'Fess up. Did I really descend from the skies in the form of a small, bushy-tailed rodent? Could this other Mr. Olivier be my biological father who I parted company with on that lonely highway so many years ago? I need to know.