The spliff is a symbol for some other sin within your father. I'm thinking pornography related...
(My guess anyway)
No, it really isn't. You don't know my dad at all. He is totally not the type to be into that sort of stuff. For one thing, he is still happily married to my mam, and has no need to look at pictures when he can the real thing anytime he want sto. He still thinks of me as his son, and probably always will simply because of all the boystuff we have done together; but I really can't hold that against him. He's my dad, and I love him unconditionally.
It was all highly believable, because that was all a very-slightly-exaggerated version of how my parents are in real life. If he got the urge to try cannabis, he absolutely would buy himself an expensive stash box and several packets of King size Rizla papers in assorted grades, and my mam would absolutely hit the ceiling if he dropped so much as a flake of tobacco on her nice clean carpet. She is also an ex- (tobacco only) smoker and does not approve of drugs; but would tolerate him grudgingly because she too loves him unconditionally. (He might actually have tried cocaine, in the 1970s, but isn't comfortable with the subject so I have never dared push it.)
I've had many other dreams about drugs (including once being offered drugs by some of the staff from the car dealership next to my old office; but all they ahd in their admittedly otherwise
very comprehenive stash was stimulants, I really wanted some smack or Valium, and another time discovering that a house 2 streets away from me was dealing drugs out of their front room window and getting together a shooping list with my mates who were round for a dinner party), but always woken up before I managed to get high.
Movie dreaming is pretty impressive.
A feature film is pretty minor comapred to some of the things I have dreamed up, such as entire housing estates (and I know I am in a dream, when I cannot read the names of the streets on amy of the street signs) and various architectural wonders such as a split-level apartment which comprised alternate storeys of a building, with the neighbours occupying the ground floor and all the floors inbetween the floors of this flat. In the dream, I was helping my friend, who lived there, to break into the other flat by opening up the floor to go through and down into the floor below, which was part of the neighbours' flat; and a bungalow with a wide corridor (complete with sofas and floor-to-ceiling plate glass windows) running around both sides of a central block with two large bedrooms, one en suite, a third, smaller bedroom and the main bathroom, to a spacious living area and down two steps to a kitchen with granite worktops and a conservatory beyond.
Another recurring theme in my dreams is needing a piss and searching for a toilet, or somewhere else to go, with varying degrees of success (often I find a place, but sometimes there are problems. One time I dreamed I was getting ready to stand and pee boystyle, reached into my jeans -- and discovered that I had already "had downstairs seen to". That isn't the only time I have dreamed I had a real vulva, but I haven't dreamed that enough times to call it regularly-recurring.) And no, peeing in my dreams does
not translate to me pissing the bed in real life!