dancer and the devil

I was in a dance troupe, though I seemed to dance very little. Rather, I observed the other dancers and admired their physiques and dancing form. I had a particular friend within the troupe: an extremely handsome man with chocolate skin and black hair. At one stage, we walked down the long hall leading to the auditorium where we were to dance. He was wearing a pale blue singlet and black dancers' tights. I tucked my hand in under his singlet as we walked, feeling his muscular torso; in this way, he led me into the room. We sat on long chairs, almost like church pews, to discuss the next piece. The various dancers were lighthearted and chatty. For some reason, my good friend told everyone about when his partner had died, how, though it was terribly sad, it had helped him to develop and to understand the world and spirituality in a new and deeper way. It was the first time that I realised that he was gay. Not long after, another man appeared in our midst. His presence troubled me and turned to look at him face to face, to see into his eyes. Almost beyond my control, I hissed at him like a cat, acting purely on instinct. Immediately, his eyes changed to a yellowy colour and I could see that he was entirely evil. I continued to face him and told him 'I know who you are'. We had a battle of spirits, me facing him, staring him down, and occasionally hissing. I called to my friend who came to my side and could also see that the man was evil. I said that the other dancers would not be able to see or understand and he said he knew. Together we engaged the man in a spiritual battle.