My personal demon from childhood is a carnivorous cow. Sort of. In recurring dreams, a featureless man-form smeared in cow dung would crouch on my front porch and moo like a cow. This was meant to lure unsuspecting me outside to see what cow had wandered onto my porch. In suburbia. Sometimes, it would get in the house and wander from room to room, mooing. I would hear the moo getting louder, coming closer. Somehow, I knew it was really the cow monster and that if it caught me, it would eat me. I’d crawl under the bed, watch its toeless feet creep slowly by, try not to breathe. This may at least partially explain my lifelong vegetarianism.