I dreamed there was this college football star, dark haired, green eyed, tall, handsome, talented, a kid with everything ahead of him. Only he'd been growing increasingly unstable, and was now prone to violent outbursts.
At some points I was Dr. House, and I suspected neurological issues. I was working on gaining his trust, giving him football related gifts. But I was getting them from a shadow box his mother had made of mementoes from his high school football days. I considered it a symptom that he didn't recognize them.
At other points, I was his mother. I was deep in denial that my son would ever do or say the awful things reported of him. I tried to rationalize it as stress and irritability because of the pressure of college, and exaggeration by people that wanted to sabotage his career. But I also lived in fear of what would happen if he realized Dr. House was tricking him, giving as gifts things that were already his own.
And I was also the girlfriend he had started abusing. I was afraid to be alone with him. I wanted to leave, but felt guilty because maybe he was just sick. I felt weak for staying when he bullied and insulted me for the smallest things, so I was starting to think the abuse was something I deserved, for my inadequacy and disloyalty. His mother never believed me, and was upset that I'd called in the doctor. I was still in love with the man I'd met and started dating, but I was terrified of what he had become, and I wasn't sure at all which person he really was.
And somewhere in there I woke up.
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