Just before sleep Carla reminded me that yesterday was the anniversary of my father's death. I promptly dreamt that a book on biopolitics cited him, thanking him for answering queries on the point of death. When I woke up, I started to look for that book, then realized it had been a dream. Then realized the whole scenario was a dream: the stroke left my father paralyzed, without speech; there was no answering queries at that point. (Even so, I'd really like to find the book.)