Monday mornings I wake to sound of the dumpster being emptied. When it crashes to the ground the whole apartment shakes. In my sleepy haze I thought another thunderstorm was raging. I was dreaming about the kids (the patients at work). Most nights, it seems, I dream about the kids. Today I’ll be with them for twelve hours, so tonight — guess what — I’ll probably dream about the kids. I need to learn to manage my attention better while I’m at work. I am so hyper-vigilant, as if national security is on the line if I miss a note being passed, or a pack of gummy-bears being lifted from the galley. Yesterday we caught someone stealing gummies. He shoved a few packs into the front pocket of his hoody after getting his allotted “one snack and a drink.” Turns out he had a whole stock-pile in his room. Weapons of mass tooth-decay. After some intense interrogation (no water-boarding, I swear), we uncovered a whole ring of gummy-snatchers. Harsh consequences were laid down. The eighteen young mouths on the Adolescent Chemical Dependency Unit are safer today than they were yesterday. I sleep well at night. Except for those damned dreams.
