Savage Dreamscape

"When you were just a stranger
And I was at your feet
I didn't feel the danger
Now I feel the heat
That look in your eyes
Telling me no
So you think that you love me
Know that you need me"....- One More Try/ George Michael

He is more vocal. His voice something I prayed to hear for months now everywhere. He talks about things in nonsensical ways. College and high school melded together. Home life and dorm life as if they are one in the same. He talks about fantastical things and says things that make no sense. Then he stops and looks at you. The beautiful sherry brown eyes encased in those black butterfly wing eyelashes. The kinds girls pay to have glued on but he flutters at you homegrown and natural. "Mom where am I? Why am I here."

It's like the devil taunting me. He is so crystal clear you can't help but answer. Hold him kiss him and talk to him breathlessly because there is so much to tell about what has happened in the last 5 months and he is finally of a mind to hear it and understand. And he listens! He responds appropriately! He is following! 

Then it happens again.

You see his eyes sort of frost over. He reacts to something not there; usually violently. He punches and bites and scratches like a wild animal trapped in a cage. No matter if anyone is touching him or not "let go of me!" Seems to be the first thing he always screams.

The aides are afraid of him. He hits with force and he intends to mame with every blow. 

I can't be afraid of him.

No matter how hard he hits or bites. I can't sit there and watch him punch himself or something that will eventually hurt him or try to pull out his G tube. I like a first responder go in when they back away. I charge him and wrestle him and hold his hands. He pulls my hair like he doesn't know me. He bites like a walker not stopping even if he draws blood. He punches and leaves a reminder that this is my life today at this moment and tomorrow when I hope to forget something in the mirror will look back at me to jog my memory.

My boy. My beautiful baby boy who has no idea what he is doing. Who is suffering this intense persecution in his brain is fighting demons that do not exist. He is confused and scared and trying his best and this fucking disease is not done. It still has some more to put him through.

The bruises hurt but that isn't why I cry. I cry because I miss my son. I just want my son.