Let me preface this one: I'm not sure why I keep having religious-themed dreams. This dream does not in any way reflect upon my beliefs or opinions. It's just a dream -and an interesting story.
I dreamed I was a satanist. I lived in a satanist monastery that looked like a Californian mission, but the walls were made out of obsidian. It was in a very pretty, naturesque location. Across the narrow dirt road from us was a Christian monastery with monks. There was an ancient pact between the two monasteries that we would never harm each other or go onto each other's property. We teased each other from across the road. We hated each other in a familiar, almost friendly sort of way.
I held a high position within our monastery. I was second in command, next to Satan, in our order. We all knew Satan well. He was sort of like our adopted father. He was a creepy looking man with yellowish white hair, like a long-time smoker. He was shorter than me, but had a huge, intimidating presence. His eyes were always a different color. He visited me often, because I was his next in command on this part of the earth.
One day, I went to Hell with him for a visit, which was a great honor. It was an extremely large underground cavern, lit by an eerie blue light. The floor was water, except for a scattering of stepping stones. It was extremely cold. There was noone else there, but it looked as if the cavern went on forever. I suspected that this wasn't the whole of Hell, just what he was allowing me to see at that moment.
Satan told me that he loved me, and that he wanted to officially adopt me as his child. I knew that this was only granted to one soul forever. It meant that I would sit at his right hand in Hell after I died. It meant that I would be second only to Satan in all the universe. Satan was, of course, second only to God, but we didn't talk about Him. Satan seemed touchy on the subject.
We performed the tea ceremony that would make me his child. I drank the tea that was colder than any substance on earth. I knew I was supposed to feel different afterwards, but I didn't. I certainly looked different. I wore a black cloak and my face was white and mask-like. I knew this was a permanent physical change.
After the tea ceremony, Satan suddenly grew more fierce looking. I saw him then as an extremely intense concentration of power contained within the form of a frail looking, creepy old man. As powerful as I knew he was, this felt like the first time I was ever allowed to comprehend him.
He suddenly seized me by the throat and lifted me off the ground. He said: "You are now my child. I have given you your life. None but me can take it. You shall be spared from the torments of Hell. You, my child, will be the cause of them."
The next moment I was back in my room in the monastery.
Later, I stood outside alone, watching the Christian monks go about their business across the road. They stole curious glances at my new appearance. I thought about my life.
I had never asked to be a satanist. I was chosen by him as a child, and had spent most of my life in the monastery. I thought about the honor that had been bestowed upon me. Why wasn't I happy about it. Why wasn't I proud?
A thought crossed my mind as two monks walked past me in the road.
"You! Christians!" I called.
They looked around at me in surprise. It was unusual for us to try to speak to each other, besides the odd jeer cat-called across the road.
I asked them how people became Christian -purely out of curiosity, of course. I had never thought about it before. They told me that those who accepted and loved God and His son could be saved from Hell. They told me this with a mocking, jovially-hostile tone. I asked if anyone could be saved.
"Yes."
"Even a child of the dark one?"
"...Yes."
"Even the one who has drank his tea? One who is guaranteed the right hand?"
They looked at each other, and the humor fell from their faces. I saw a glimmer of fear. They said they didn't know, that they would ask the Prior. Then they hurried away. They were only novices after all.
I thought a great deal about what they had said. Never in my life had I harbored doubts. Never had I questioned my place, or his right to rule me.
Later, my fellow satanists and I were loading ourselves into the back of our blue truck. (Ok, so up to this point the dream took place in the past, maybe late 1600s style. But now we have trucks. It's a dream. go figure.) All satanist monasteries have blue trucks, Christians drove red trucks. I saw that next to us, the Christians were loading themselves into their red truck. One shouted at me:
"Hey! We asked! Apparently even the tea drinker can be saved if he really wanted to be." Everyone in both trucks started laughing uproariously at the idea. I gave the satanists a thoughtful look, then stepped down from the blue truck, and climbed into the red truck. The laughter stopped.
"I have decided to be Christian now." I said.
Every face, satanist and Christian alike, took on a look of absolute shock.
"What?!" someone shouted.
I told the Christians to drive away, quickly.
The car was silent for a long time.
"What just happened?" one of them asked finally, as they all threw amazed looks at me. I sat silently with my elbows on my knees, head in hands.
"The dark child just stepped down from the blue truck..." another one replied in awe.
"Yes..." I said, shaking my head slowly in disbelief. "And Satan's gonna kill me."
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