Withdrawl and Further Nightmares

The night our Holy Father died I had an unusual dream. It began facing a door, old and wooden. I pushed it open and revealed a dark bedroom with a crummy mattress…upon which was a large, scarred, and muscular man who was fucking the hell out of a faceless girl. The man turned and looked towards me, and I immediately percieved that it was actually Satan himself staring at me behind red glowing eyes. I immediately closed the door and took a step back, so the door was whole in my line of sight. A moment later it opened, and out walked a beautiful woman with long dark hair, and the same glowing eyes. She rubbed my chest and danced around me…pressing her hips into my groin and rotating her perfect ass against me. Something, however, told me that fucking Satan would not be such a good idea, so I retreated into the other room to inform my family…only to find them charmed, unbelieving, and unable to help me. Satan entered behind me with sly banter and hors d’oeuvres…offering them to me, and my family (which I percieved as some sort of unholy communion… a white sugary substance on crackers). I pleaded with my family to acknowlege the fact that she was Satan, but they wouldn’t believe me. I then told them that I would prove it by trying to leave, and that when she wouldn’t let me, they could be certain that what I said was true. I walked out the front door, and awoke.