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Bruce couldn't say why he'd added a new compulsion to his library of active mental disturbances. He knew it had started after Dent had died, and he knew the object of his compulsion was Jim Gordon. He could even recognize that he was obsessed with Gordon because the cop had proven himself to be a good man and an honest cop, two traits that could be hard enough to find in Gotham separately, much less in the same man.
It was like playing chicken, or counting coup. Every event that Gordon wore his dress uniform to, Bruce had to attend also, either openly as Bruce, or hiding in shadows as Batman. Either way, during the course of the of the event he had to get close to Gordon, be able to count the pins on his jacket and read the letters on his badge. If possible, he had to touch Gordon somehow, some way. And he had to do it without Gordon noticing how close Bruce was, or that Batman was even there. Bruce might've written the new compulsion off as a juvenile need to reaffirm the existence of such a man on the Gotham police force, except for the dreams. Dreams in which he stripped Jim of his uniform, slowly, reverently, before kissing him sweetly. Or of being stripped, bent over naked and fucked while Jim still wore the full uniform. Dozens of variations of theme, but all involving Jim's uniform, and all undeniably erotic.
After the third or fourth dream, Bruce didn't even try to self-analyze. He was a grown man who had consciously created two radically different personas that he switched between as necessary during the course of the day; a uniform kink and a thing for an older man in a position of authority was hardly a blip on the mental health radar compared to that.