the devil went down to bushwick

i had a dream last night that the devil was pursuing suzanne. it never really became clear to me why...all i knew is that i was her protector, her "guardian angel" as the devil called me. there was one point in the dream where the border between good an evil was defined merely by a revolving glass door, on one side the devil, the other me. i stood face to face with the devil as he employed several ruses to try and trick me into letting him pass, but when it came down to it, my sacred beloved remained safe. and why? well, the devil told me that he couldn't pass because i was pure.
i thought for a second that because of my purity all i needed to do was touch the devil, and this theory was soon tested as eventually his rage and strength destroyed the revolving glass door, and the wall to which it was attached. and now, there was no barrier, no clearly defined line of good and evil. it was just me, and he, literally standing toe-to-toe, fearless in the shadow of an other. i slashed at him and felt the skin gathering beneath my fingernails, but left no mark. i grabbed recklessly at his throat and while i squeezed he responded mockingly, "since i don't breath, this probably won't be an effective means of destroying me."
i don't know the details, i don't even know who won, all i can say, and this is based entirely on a feeling that i have rather than a decisive conclusion, is that we fought...for a long time. perhaps we fell out of a window, or maybe i got thrown up against a wall, but the indescribable feeling of free-fall or flight lingered for a short time after i woke.