Man Without A Face.

Everybody's seen the man without a face.
He's not really just without a face.
He's without everything, and that black mass of dark matter is what haunts us.

Everybody's seen him.
JK Rowling called him a dementor.
Stephen King called him Randall Flagg.
He's there for everybody, but our minds imprint images on top of him to help us better understand.

I've been having dreams about the faceless man for a long time. The first one I remember was when I was very young, and having a rash of night terrors. I remember him standing next to my bed, and even though he was right there, I could not see his face. He was at least 8 foot tall, even though our house probably only hit around 7 foot. All of a sudden my door was closed despite me having gone to sleep with it open and all the lights blazing. And when my mom woke me up from being backed up against the wall screaming, the door was open and lights blazing once again.

I've had another one recently. The man is chasing me, but I'm pregnant and ready to pop and am way too slow. He's not really chasing me, he's just toying with me. He finally gets bored of the game, and catches me as I trip. He sits on my chest and even though he is entirely weightless, I cannot breathe. I've completely forgotten how. And as he sits on my chest, he cuts open my swollen belly and takes my baby.

So that's my personal demon. The one who doesn't have a face or a body or an existence, but haunts me nonetheless. The dark matter that superimposes over him to help me cope is thick and staticky despite its nonexistance.