The Boy Vampire’s Passion

I had a dark and grisly dream last night. I dreamt I was a boy vampire who is a double agent for the forces of light and dark. I've been sent to stay in a suburban house, a white wooden house which is a typical American dwelling, with a lawn and a sidewalk. At night I send messages to both my masters, the Vatican and Lucifer, by burning candles and papers with signs up on them in my bedroom, Which is an upstairs corner bedroom in the house. The owners of the house, from whom I rent, seem very normal and oblivious to what I do. I suspect that their teenage son is a vampire like me, but I never speak to him.

My last night I plan to send an important warning to the powers of darkness but my candle message is intercepted by the Vatican. I know this because somehow it is the wrong candle. It is time for me to return.

As I leave the house, I decided perhaps now is the time to get to know the family I have been staying with. They are out on the lawn, so typical and so suburban. But as I watch, the father is playing with his infant son, and another son is watching.

The father takes a little dagger and cuts a little wound in the infant side. He says, “This is just practice for the real thing.” Not viciously, but with a strange kind of love, he bends down and begins to drink the infants blood, his tongue entering the wound.

Terrified yet fascinated I watch them thinking to myself, “this family is nothing like it seemed.”

I walk away from this scene which from a distance appears one of domestic tranquility, yet is actually profoundly dark. I do not know which side I am working for anymore, but I know that I have been living in a nest of evil disguised as a typical American suburban dream house.

I rarely have a dream so closely drawn from the Judeo Christian mythos. The father and the son with a wound in his side and the blood, and my own bizarre function in all of this, is a mystery. When I woke up, I did not wake up in terror. I was quite calm. Yet I know I should've been terrified.