I only see him in the rare moments between sleep and wakefulness. We have created a symbiotic bond in those sparse meetings. He feeds on dreams, and I am willing to give mine up. Though, I’m not sure how my nightmares must taste to him. All I know is that before, I was tormented each night by nightmares. And then one day, he was in my nightmare and ate the dream, leaving behind a nothingness. A nothingness that was peace to me.

I am much happier without the nightmares, though I suppose it’s not good that I’m feeding such a beast bad dreams. All of the negative energy is bound to morph him into something as dark and scary as the dreams themselves, but I can’t seem to care. The peaceful, quiet nights that I have are worth it. Worth anything. The lack of fear, terror, anxiety, and horror are worth possibly creating a monster. But for now he’s my personal dream-eating demon.

It’s ironic that my nightmares are what called him. The intensity of my emotions drew the demon to my dreams. And he took them away. I still have the nightmares, that is what he feeds on after all. But when he consumes them, rich in emotions and feelings, he takes away the memory of them. Again, I have no idea how they affect him. They could put him a bad mood or make him stronger for all I know. One thing I’m sure of though, is that he is well-fed by my subconscious.

My dream-eating demon eats more some days, leaving me feeling a bit numb. Of course, I don’t really mind. Other days, he eats less and I wake up with my heart beating a little faster than normal or I startle awake. But I haven’t remembered my nightmares in months, just the sweet emptiness he leaves behind. So in those rare moments between sleep and wakefulness that I see him, we exchange a wave and grateful smiles.