Admit that you are.

You don't see any way to avoid the issue now. You wonder if you should just lie and tell her that it didn't have anything to do with her. After all, 18 year-old guys get hard all the time for no reason. But with her body against yours and her head resting on your shoulder, you suspect she can feel that your whole body tensed and hear your heart pounding in reaction to her asking the question. Besides, what had she said before, she told you the truth about her dream because you deserved to know. Maybe she deserves the truth from you.

You clear your throat nervously. "Well, I... um, I suppose in a way. It's not like it's something you did, or anything. Its just, I was comfortable, relaxed, and well, when a beautiful woman is that close to a guy my age... it's, um, a biological response, you know. I don't want you to think I'm some kind of pervert or something." You don't move from your position on the couch, and neither does she. You both keep your faces turned towards the TV, although you're not really paying any attention to the movie. For your part, you know it would be too hard to have this conversation if you had to look your mom in the face. You can feel her nod her head again, but she doesn't say anything right away. "Are you mad at me? Disappointed? Or disgusted? Or... I don't know... tell me."

Then she speaks in a low voice, still curled up against your side, "Dave, I couldn't possibly be any anything but perfectly happy and proud of you. You have to believe that." She draws in a breath, it sounds shaky with emotion, as if she's holding back tears. "I'm glad to hear you don't blame me, but... I think it may be my fault. The things I said this morning. And I couldn't help myself from cuddling up with you tonight, even though I knew it wasn't appropriate after our conversation." She pauses. "Oh god! I even gave you a beer. You must think I was trying to get you drunk or something. I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm your mother, I shouldn't do these things. I'm a terrible mother."

You pull your arm from her grip, and wrap it around her shoulders instead, hugging her closer to your side. "I think you're a great mom, and always have been. It's just been a weird day. That's all. Nobody's fault." You reassure her. "We agreed the dream didn't mean anything. This isn't the first time we've sat close on the couch. And one beer wasn't going to get me drunk. There's nothing terrible about any of this. So, tell me why you think there's anything wrong with you." You say, trying to cheer her up.

You words don't have the effect you were expecting. She was nodding along, but just when you ask her to say why she thinks something is wrong with her, you feel her body tense. Her breathing becomes faster. Her hand clenches into a tight fist, as if she's straining against something. "Tell you." You feel her shudder. "Dave, I'll tell you, but please let me get it all out. Don't interrupt, stop me, or ask me any questions until I'm done."

"Honey, I love you with all my heart. I always have, you're my perfect, wonderful son. But... since that dream last night, I realized, I don't just love you like a son. When I saw you this morning, I immediately wanted you to do all the things you did to me in that dream. I love you so deeply and completely, more than I've ever loved any man. When you told me you thought I looked good then, and just now when you said I was beautiful, my heart fluttered." Her voice dropped, getting even softer. "I got wet."

"All day I've been thinking about you. I couldn't concentrate on anything else. I know how wrong it is. That a mother shouldn't feel this way about her own son. That it could never be accepted. But the more I thought, the more I realized that I don't care if society doesn't accept it, or if it's immoral or even sick. All I care about is what you think. What you want. What would make you happy."

"When I felt... that you were hard... it made me think that maybe, maybe I could make you happy that way. Then you told me that it was because of me. I was ecstatic, even though I know how wrong and sick it is for me to think that way. I can't help how I feel about you." She sits up on the couch, pulling away from you with effort, and looks you in the eye. "That's why I feel like there's something wrong with me. There is. There, I told you." She says, and lets out a long sigh. Then she jumps up from the couch and hurries out of the family room. You hear her almost run up the stairs and close her bedroom door.

You sit there stunned for a few moments, with the old comedy movie still playing on the TV. What happened? Just yesterday, everything was normal. Now your mom sounds like she's losing her mind, and she's saying she's in love with you. You know your mother. She's always been so proper and restrained. She's like you, she doesn't do or say anything without worrying how it will affect others and how they see her. Even if she had a giant nervous breakdown and started thinking all these things, she would never, ever say any of that out loud, and certainly never tell you about it. What the fuck happened?