Week Seven at the Mental Hospital

Week Seven. At the end of week seven, actually. Next week I am more than halfway finished with this unique, and often difficult, semester.

Today Cam is not oozing strangeness or throwing off energy. It’s very quiet, as if nothing ever happened here of interest over the last 72 years. I can’t explain that. Why is today tranquil, but yesterday was crazy? There was SCREAMING in the unit behind the police station, from within an abandoned unit. Right before I heard those cries of anguish, a white mist came streaming from the doorway, dissipating as it rose. Kimberly and I had spent a couple of hours in the Archives here, watching a documentary about how wonderful Cam was, and how much everyone loved it here. Maybe there is some truth to that; the reality of this place is very, very complex.

In any case, I have something of a love/hate relationship with this place. It repels and attracts in equal measure. Today seems like every other day, anywhere in Southern California: it’s windy and clear, about 73 degrees, no hint of trouble on the horizon. The past seems as tame as the present and as uneventful as the future. It’s all simply, completely calm. Of course, it may not be that way tomorrow, or even when I leave my classroom at 4:00. Who or what makes such decisions is beyond me. For now, I will enjoy the fact that nothing is happening and see what might show up tomorrow.