Night Vision
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Night Vision

How I Came To Suspect I May Be a Demon Inhabiting a Human Host

Back when I still thought I was a regular human girl, life was pretty rough

Photo by Christal Yuen on Unsplash

The memories of my early years in this flesh-suit buzz with the unwelcome tingling of humiliation, mixed with the numb agony of shame, nauseatingly blurred by confusion and despair.

Don’t get me wrong, there were thrills, too: like making out with my little five-year-old boyfriend in the complete darkness of my bedroom closet as a kindergartener. But as you can well imagine, the shame-humiliation-confusion cocktail spilled forth as soon as his mother opened the door and found us.

Very apparently, this was not what she expected to find.

Bedeviled by Desire

Life as a human has been full of incidents like this. That just happens to be a particularly early and rather naughty one. I did grow up to be myself, after all.

So anyway, as I’m learning the ropes of this whole human thing, I’m having repeated experiences of overwhelming sexual desire, or passionate longing, or primal coveting — and, innocently following those urges to their fulfillment.

How shocking! How jarring to my human nervous system when people in my life who I loved and trusted met me with harsh criticism, judgment, and reproach for the actions I was willing to take to fulfill these sweet blushings of attraction to the earthly realm.

In fact, the longer I lived in the human realm, the more I received the message that I was terrible, bad, and wrong.

Back then I didn’t think of myself as being “in the human realm” of course — I simply thought I was a human, and I think you can forgive me for making that mistake.

What I’m trying to point to here is that — there was a long period of time when the primary thing I was able to discern about myself from my interactions with my environment was that I was very bad and probably one of the terrible kinds of humans who, if left to my own devices, would certainly get up to nefarious, criminal, no-good deeds.

And, with much love and gratitude to my host-family, I got this message more often than not in indirect and implicit ways. Bless their hearts, they did everything they could to support the illusion of myself as a regular old human. For everyone’s sake, they often skirted around the most difficult challenges of living with the obviously intense presence that is a budding demon incarnate.

For the most part, it was through my own analysis that I became aware of my inherent wrongness. When I did as they taught me in English class, and compared-and-contrasted expected “normal behaviors” of the human group with my own inner urgings, instincts, and taboo thoughts, I came up with a troubling book report indeed.

(Okay, and there were also the times when my parents shouted at me, calling me selfish, manipulative, entitled, and demanding. And times I was punished for being loud, stubborn, and sneaky. And the times when I got arrested. And… )

Anyway, the end result of all this was a lot of emotional pain — as previously described — and confusion, which, together, left a very soggy rotten hole in the foundation of my psyche.

Saved by Shame

This soggy rotten hole in the foundation of my psyche drove me essentially mad.

And like many mad people, I followed twin paths of self-destruction and self-discovery.

With many stories for another time from that period of creative self-destruction — a period which continues to this day — I am now cutting to the chase:

This soggy rotten hole in the foundation of my psyche probably would have continued to destroy me through drinking, bad relationships, and self-sabotage were it not for one particularly good bad relationship.

My oldest kid’s dad used to berate me for being “so shameless”.

“You have no shame, Laila,” he would say, “you just do whatever you want, whenever you want, and you will just ask for anything — and it doesn’t even occur to you to feel bad about it!”

This man’s shaming behavior was the poison medicine that woke me up to a truer truth about who I am.

When he demonstrated his sneering distaste in the way he said “It doesn’t even occur to you to feel bad about it”, I was left with two arguments to make in retort:

  • Either! I argue that I shouldn’t feel bad about wanting what I want and doing what I want to do (which is, ultimately, the Argument of the Liberated Demon, but I get ahead of myself … )
  • Or! I argue that I do, indeed, feel bad about it, but choose to do it anyway.

And because, even then, I already always was my demonic self, but at the same time quite unaware of it and sort of desperate to fit in with these human-types — I argued a bit of both.

I would put on displays of feeling bad and guilty for being the way it occurred naturally to me to be: sometimes (often) very convincing displays that involved truly (truly) demonic levels of shrieking, hair-pulling-out, chest-pounding, object smashing, and general rampaging.

But honestly, after five years of enacting the dramas of shame and self-hate that my sadistic partner seemed to demand from me, I had to admit that it wasn’t doing it for me.

I felt more truly aligned with the first argument: that shame is a completely useless emotion and that there is really absolutely no harm whatsoever in wanting what you want.

So I decided to explore what it meant about me if I was the type of gal who just — wants what she wants, without feeling the least bit bad about it.

Waking Up from the Long Nightmare

Now, during my years of wandering in the desert, so to speak, I had done my fair share of dabbling in varieties of fringe, esoteric, occult spiritual notions.

When I began to listen to this part of myself that deeply knew and trusted that my desire and my wanting was inevitably for the good of all, I had a dream.

In the dream, I was a black-fleshed woman, enormous and primeval, and I was giving birth. I was oceanically calm, and I had the dream-knowing that I was giving birth to the world's most peaceful and beautiful child. As this dream-knowing entered my mind, I saw a golden radiant disk containing the shimmering numbers 6 6 6. As this shining yellow radiance filled my entire awareness, I woke up.

So that was pretty weird.

But also unignorable.

And for the purpose of brevity, I think I will just conclude by saying that that dream marked the beginning of my awakening to myself as what I truly am:

A demonic, angelic, divine presence who is inhabiting this earthly reality in the form of a human for the explicit purpose of enjoying inhabiting this earthly reality.

I know there are many of us out there because I catch glimpses every day. The truth is, all humans are animated by a demonic angelic divine presence, but the vast vast majority of them are hiding, wearing that human suit TIGHT over their demonic soul and those ones are quite boring to play with for anything but a lark.

But there are lots of us who are trying to wake up, as I did. Usually, you can tell that a person’s demon is trying to wake them up because they have had a troubled life that makes almost no sense by human standards, especially because of how smart, talented, and full of potential this flailing host-human seems to be.

The flailing comes from this conflict between the enormous desire energy of the demon and the general repression-of-desire popular in human culture these days.

However, as I have lived now for several years with the psyche-restoring benefits of knowing who and what I really am, it has become a warmly erotic goal of mine to provide more information and support for the awakening demonic presences of this world.

Dear friends, I know it has been difficult, but rest your weary head upon my devilish bosom. You’re not defective. It gets better.

Night Vision is a blossoming publication fed by the grit and greatness of navigating the unconscious and inner worlds, reconciling fear in all its forms for endless liberation into the pleasure of the dynamic human realm we inhabit.



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Laila M Bernhardt

Laila M Bernhardt

Radical agent of transformation & shedder of light. Lover, rebel, wise counsel.