Demon Kiss

There is a little girl. She has pale skin and fine features, large dark eyes, purple or brown or black, they are too dark to discern, and shimmering. She has ebony hair with sparkling highlights. She is dressed in a modest French maid’s uniform.

Suddenly a demon, with the physical form of a lean, muscled, fertility god, shoves her up against a wall, and proceeds to ravish her mouth with a deep kiss.
When I first see the girl, I am filled with a sense that she is me, but then when the demon kisses her, I am filled with a sense that I am it. Just before I awake, I am filled with a sense that I am them both, and that the demon is none other than my shadow self.