I am the Darkness

The other night I dreamt that a friend was being pestered by this freaky black demon?spirit?cat-thing with an overlarge head and a disproportionately wide mouth with very long, almost triangular teeth. Cartoonish, really, except that it was rather terrifying and occupying my friend's closet. She asked me to help her get rid of it and I had no idea how I was supposed to accomplish this. This cat was made of some serious stuff, and apparently fancied itself a servant of an immeasurably vast, ancient, powerful entity collectively referred to as the Darkness, with which I had in this dream been working for some time.

So finally, after a few fearful and unsuccessful attempts to roust the demoncat out of my friend's closet with a broom, I decided that the only other recourse was for me to invoke the Darkness and face the cat. And so I did, despite the fact that I was deeply concerned about the possibility that this thing would wipe out all traces of what made me me. I walked carefully up to the demoncat filled to the skin with this alien energy, my sense of self balancing precariously on a tightrope over a sea of Darkness sloshing in my brainpan, and stood about three feet from the closet in which the demoncat was hissing and spitting and showing off its many teeth and puffing up in a threatening manner. I said in a voice that was mostly my own, "Oh, little kitty, I AM the Darkness." And it flared up behind me, a tidal wave of the devouring black of space stretching into infinity, and engulfed us both, and when it was receded, the cat was gone, but I remained.

I think this dream was meant to reassure me, or empower me, or tempt me over to the Dark Side with cookies, or something. I suppose an underlying concern with invocation of ANYTHING was always the fear that it would take me over for always, because I don't have a strong enough sense of identity to fight for it, for control. (This was and is also the reason I refrained from serious study in demonology.)

Rage, my old friend, helped me get things done. I could move mountains when the red mist descendeth, because it meant action without over/thinking, and when it took over it left no room for fear or doubt, and I accomplished a lot of good because of it. But as I got older it left me more drained, with an unpleasant headachey feeling, and it was hurting people I liked, so I went to the anger management sessions that helped me chase it away. And so now I don't fly into screaming, flailing, violent fits at the drop of a hat, but I also feel empty, apathetic, dulled. The rare occasions that I did lose myself to that all-encompassing fury in the past couple of years, it felt warm and familiar, even nostalgic, but it still made me tired, and it was still more detrimental than anything.

Maybe I just want something to fill me again, give me that assurance, that drive. Maybe this Darkness thing, whatever it is, is looking for a friend. I like making new friends.