A photograph

A photograph fell out of a file folder that Corrigan was carrying today. He didn’t notice; he hardly notices what’s going on these days. Before I was able to return it to him, I saw what it was a photograph of and quickly tucked it into my journal. Let me re-phrase, it wasn’t a photograph, it looked more like a…. still from a surveillance camera. It was a boy, a boy whom I’ve never seen before, hooked up to the machine. We’ve stopped doing the sleep studies with the Dream Chaser weeks ago and I don’t understand from where this image could have come. I took the image back to my desk to try to reference it with other files, but nothing looks familiar, not the boy, not the room, nothing. I almost want to question Corrigan about it but, I don’t know, something’s not right. Between his current disposition and just the atmosphere of this place, I don’t know to whom I can turn to tell me what’s happening.