DREAM CATCHER.

June 6, 2007

I wrote this one after waking up in a cold sweat, heart racing, unsure if what I’d seen had actually happened or if my brain had stitched it together from a dozen real calls. That’s the thing they don’t tell you—sometimes the worst parts of the job don’t happen on scene, they show up later, when you're trying to sleep. The dreams come without warning, dragging pieces of memory you thought you'd buried. That morning, I sat at the kitchen table before sunrise, the whole house still quiet, and started writing just to make sense of it. This post came from that place—the uneasy space between sleep and memory, where everything you’ve seen starts bleeding into who you are.