His dreams have been, for lack of a better word, fucked up. They always seem to center around himself and Damon and somehow, Katherine. She's there, but it's not her, not really. It usually happens the same. They're together, they're being intimate, which isn't strange even if it seems to be the 1800s, and they're kissing and he's into it and then she turns into something else. Something dangerous and violent. With dark eyes and fangs and little resemblance to the woman he loves. And then she is chasing him and they're in the woods and he's being hunted, like an animal.
And then, he wakes up. Like today, waking in a panic, heartbeat racing. He's surprised he didn't wake her, sleeping there next to him. He gathers himself, looking over at her, his breathe still coming fast and hard. She's perfect. Nothing strange about her at all and yet he can't shake the image, the fear. There is a thin sheen of sweat on his skin, as if he'd actually been running. He reaches out for her, to brush back a strand of her hair, and she stirs. Perhaps he woke her after all. Maybe she can hear the pounding of his heartbeat.