last night my dreams once again involved me being chased and terrified by dinosaurs. i've had lots of these dreams and i don't know why. did jurassic park scar me in some deep, dark way? i loved dinos as a kid, but i remember being terrified when i heard a trex was as tall as a two-story house. it's always velociraptors and trexes in the dreams, always in different places but always me running and trying to hide or escape and they're always crashing through the door or the wall and going for me. christ.

it's after midnight, so here it is. four years. it's almost too much to believe. i mark the real anniversary around noontime, that's the time i remember looking at the clock when i was calling the ambulance. what a strange recollection. my sister, who was at work at the time, swears the lights flickered at like ten after twelve that day, but i don't know if she just imagined it or made it up or if it was just a cosmically ironic coincidence. always ironic the way life goes on, the way the world keeps on turning even though for one group of people it has just been irreversibly shattered. how many other people have died on this day that i have neither known nor cared about? how many people will be remembering my dad today, and how will they be remembering him, i would love to know that. but i can't.

equally ironic that my identification number for the study today was 415. 4/15, the day that lives in infamy... how dramatic. also strange that whenever anyone asks me for my lucky number i always say 15, and i use it whenever a random number is required, like in passwords. i've never really had a lucky number in my life, i never cared. it seems that 15 is the only number that sticks with me. it's not really lucky in any sense, but at least it has some meaning to me. wherever i see the number 15, for some reason i feel....i don't even know what i feel. connected, maybe.

too much thinking. if i could have one wish right now, i would wish for a good dream tonight. i would wish to dream about my dad, not one of those dreams i've had where he's just kind of there and it's like nothing ever happened and he never died, not those because those are just depressing to wake up from and realize oh wait, nevermind, he IS dead. no, i want a dream where i know that he's dead but he's there anyway. why can't i have one of those mystical dream visitations? don't i deserve to see him again, even if it's only my subconscious working shit out? work this out, dammit.

suddenly i find myself wondering about the organ donation recipients. do they ever think about him on this day? there are people wandering around this state with their blood coursing through my father's veins, with my father's skin grafted onto theirs. there is a woman whose name i have now forgotten who is seeing through my dad's cornea, if you can believe that! little bits and pieces of him are still floating about. in my DNA too, except mixed up with my mom's. damn that scots-irish blood!

now it's REALLY time for bed. god and i just ate sweet tarts.