dream story

I know this is far-fetched, but one day you might see it on a silver screen..

When I fell asleep last night, I awoke in a new bed. I lived in a new home, with a new family. Don't laugh when I say this, but it turns out the new family just happened to be the Partridge Family. I don't know much about them -- for I never viewed their show -- but I can tell you that I got to know them quite well and spent several dream-hours singing with them and performing at a dead Roadhouse in the empty South.
So, as it turned out, the reason they stopped performing before was that the devil (yes, Lucifer, Satan, whatever you have named him) was after them. Well, I could have told them right then and there that the Devil is probably a man that doesn't give up easily, and of course he was back after not too long. After days of dark corners, empty eyes from friends, and eerie feelings, He arrived. We tried not to notice, but then the dog started getting...well, sick. My head is blurry from the sun now, so I am leaving out bits and pieces, but the next thing I remember is standing in the driveway with my family looking at the dog and at the Dark Lord (He requested we call him). It was then learned that the dog was not in fact sick, but carrying the unborn child of the Devil himself. What happened next is beyond me. Maybe I began to lucid dream, and became aware of my abilities, or maybe this is just how my imagination decided to solve things; I stepped forward. The boys were crying. They kept saying,"Not our Buddy, not our friend". The dog looked as if he might die soon, and my heart bled for him. The look in his big brown eyes was so confused and painful. The destruction of innocence. The death of a family member. I stepped forward once more. "Stop," was more of a request than a demand as it left my lips. The Devil lifted his dark burning eyes to mine and waited for me to say more. My face turned white and I spoke again, "Take me instead". Instantly, I felt a fiery energy burn through my spine and my stomach. I didn't have to ask twice. "You will love it," He sneered with a twisted, cut-glass grin. "Will it hurt.. when it comes?"
"You will die."

Blackout.

Hours, maybe days later, I find myself looking for you (you know who you are). I want to find you, tell you I'm dying, try to explain my ridiculous situation; Tell you I love you. I'm so afraid you will not know. I'm so afraid to die alone -- the pain I can stand -- but alone, with no soft eyes or hands to comfort me? A death could not be worse.

Then, I woke up. In my own bed. In New York. Still alone.