I opened my eyes to see a familiar ceiling staring at me. I sat up on the bed and moved my hand towards the bedstand. I fiddled in the darkness a bit, before I found the switch and turned it on. Suddenly there was a harsh light illuminating the room and I had to blink twice before I got used to it. I picked up the bottle of water I had sitting at my bedside and uncorked it. The cool liquid felt like it was sent by a higher power and my parched throat swallowed it greedily. I put down the bottle and sighed with relief. As I put the down the bottle, my mind wandered towards the dream I just had. It was a recurring theme. Some kind of demonic presence chasing me. I ran constantly in the dream, not daring to look back. The sensation of fear was still present, and I shivered slightly.
After making some instant coffee I sat down at my computer. I moved the mouse to rouse it from sleep. The screen turned on. I opened my browser and web searched if being chased in a dream meant anything. It’s been a full week of having the same dream with minor differences every night. The search opened and I clicked the first result.
Dreaming about being chased generally means that you are “being told by your unconsciousness that you’re avoiding an issue or a person.Who is chasing you matters,”
Feeling creeped out I shuddered. Demons. Mythical enemies of mankind, preying on man’s emotional vulnerabilities. “Hah” I laughed for a moment. I had a lot of those.
Most people would dismiss the though of demons immediately, but I didn’t. I had a certain experience with them. In my teenage years I was often visited by a pride demon and her friend, a sucubbus. They haven’t returned ever since Pride gave me her gift. Well, it’s not like I missed them. They were a part of my life I left behind long ago. I lifted my shirt and looked at my pectoral muscle. The tattoo that everyone who saw it, commented on, was still there. It was a star with 7 dots circling it. It wasn’t anything special, but it was a demonic gift, and I could definitely feel something from it. Something simillar to a high pitched buzzing tone, But a sensation, not a sound.
Suddenly I heard a sound from downstairs. I left the bedroom and turned on the light in the hallway. My cat, Vergil ran up the stairs slowly and when he saw me, he meowed softly, then walked right past me and entered my bedroom, where he quickly jumped on top of my bed and started cleaning himself. I looked once more towards the stairs, then turned off the light and went back in my room. I sat down behind the computer again and took a sip of my coffee. I set up some soft rock music and lowered the volume.
“I like your cat. And your taste in music isn’t too bad either.”
I jumped from the chair, spilling the remains of the coffee all over myself. I turned quickly and saw a woman lying on my bed with Vergil purring in her hands.
The woman was a beauty. She had red hair in a punk rocker style, and a face people would say belonged on a model. My eyes went lower and I saw her black tanktop that held a badly hidden secret which seemed like it would be revealed to the public in the next moment. Her black shorts contoured to the shape of her voluptuous hips and her beautiful thighs led downwards to her small and bare feet. My eyes focused on her face again and I could see her watching me with her deep red slitted eyes. Her lips quirked upwards at my look and she opened her mouth to speak.
“It’s been a while Samuel. Or would you prefer Sam.”
I frowned a bit then smiled. “You know I hate being called that. It’s good to see you Syala.”
The Demonic Tattoo 