The Devil's Dreams - A Short Story by Steven Aitchison

The street lights barley lit the empty, darkened road as yet another human slowly walked, looking around him wondering why he was there. Rows and rows of buildings with black doors lined the road. And then he appeared, the Devil, dressed in a black suit, black shining shoes and a smile as wide as the Golden Gate.

“What is this place?” asked the human

“Your life!” replied the devil smiling excitedly “Your life, and all it’s darkest moments filled with regret, sadness and despair.” The devil led the human to one of the doors and motioned for the human to open the door.

Tentatively the human slowly opened the door and peaked at what lay beyond it. His mouth opened wide at the sight before him.

He saw himself in a beautiful house laughing and fooling around with his children and his wife looking at them in the background, content and happy. There was his dream car sitting in the driveway, a dog barking excitedly running around and chasing birds on the lawn and neighbours mulling around doing their gardens. The human looked at the devil:

“What is this, I split up from my wife years ago?”

“Yes you did!” the devil replied, laughing and almost skipping to the next door. “Look in this one, look in this one.”

The human, puzzled, opened another black door. Again his mouth fell open. He saw himself again sunning himself on the deck of a boat with his family and friends around him enjoying time together. His son sat at one end of the boat fishing whilst his other son was sitting next to him reading a book. He closed the door with a heavy heart.

“I don’t understand” the human said looking into the eyes of the devil.

“Ah, most people don’t. I love it, I love it!” the the devil could barely contain himself. “Try another one.”

The human opened another door and saw himself working in some kind of workshop speaking to some other people he did not know. He looked around and saw a sign which read ‘DreamHomes’. The human gasped, this was the business he had always dreamt of starting up and didn’t follow through with it. It had been a pipedream to him and although his wife had encouraged him to go for it he never got round to it, instead electing to work for another building company with long hours and low pay. It started to dawn on the human, this was his dream life he was looking at, all the doors contained elements of his dream life.

“Why?” was all the human could ask.

“Why show you this? because this is all mine, for every dream you didn’t act on, I stole it and started living it. I live millions of dreams and it’s wonderful, wonderful, wonderful.” The devil was almost skipping with joy. “You human’s haven’t a clue. You are put on earth to live for around 70 years, you go to school for 20 of those years, work for 45 of those years and suffer for around five of those years until you eventually die. Yeah, you have a few enlightening moments and you follow a few dreams, which annoys the hell out of me, but on the whole you are all pretty much the same. It’s wonderful, I get to live out all these dreams.”

The human, saddened by the devils words, kept walking and came to a white door. The devil stopped smiling and looked at the human. “That’s your door.” he said, “this is where you live.” The human opened the door and saw himself working on a building site, he was high up on some scaffolding just staring out into the sunset and at that moment he was catapulted back to the building site, no devil, no road, just himself watching the sunset.

He looked at his watch, a few hours to go and he had to rush back to phone his son to ask him how his gig at the club went, his son had been playing in a band for a while and they were starting to get noticed. At that moment, he decided he was going to go to the club to see his son live instead of asking about it. He climbed down the scaffolding, walked to the site office, took off his hardhat and bid goodnight to the foreman.

Steven Aitchison writes for a popular self development blog and is a deeply spiritual person, not religious but spiritual.

The Spiritual Moral / Meaning of This Story

This story doesn’t hide behind abstract metaphors. It strikes at the aching heart of human existence—missed potential, regret, and the quiet, daily forfeiture of dreams. And yet, it’s not a tale of despair. It’s a call to wake up. A whisper from your soul disguised as a devil’s grin.

The devil in this story is not some horned monster or cartoon villain. He is a mirror. He is the part of ourselves that delights in delay, in rationalization, in the slow erosion of what could have been. He feeds not on our sins, but on our surrendered aspirations. His power grows every time we talk ourselves out of what we know we were born to do.

The streets with black doors represent the silent hallways of our own consciousness—each door a timeline we chose not to live. Behind every one is a life unlived, not because it was impossible, but because it was inconvenient, uncertain, or required too much courage. This devil doesn’t create these alternative lives—he collects them, because we left them unclaimed.

The human’s walk down the street is the soul’s encounter with truth. And truth, especially spiritual truth, is rarely soft. It confronts us. It asks us, without judgment but with piercing clarity: What have you abandoned? Not what did you fail at, but what did you never begin? What dream did you turn away from because it asked too much of you?

In the presence of this devil, we see that hell isn’t fire—it’s the haunting gallery of what might have been. And heaven? It’s as simple as showing up fully to the life you have, right now, and daring to alter its direction—not someday, but today.

There is a reason the devil loses his smile at the white door. That is the door of agency. That is the moment where awakening begins. He doesn’t fear goodness. He fears decision. He fears the moment you stop watching and start choosing. The devil can only dance in our passivity.

The moment the man sees his actual life, he doesn’t sink into self-pity. Instead, he decides. Not to overhaul everything, but to take one step toward what matters. That one decision is spiritual liberation. It’s the first crack of light through a heavy sky.

Spiritual growth doesn’t always look like retreat or meditation. Sometimes it looks like a tired man climbing off scaffolding with a promise in his heart. It looks like a father showing up instead of just calling. It’s these small acts of presence that redeem our unlived lives—not in some grand reversal, but in the simple courage to stop deferring love, joy, and connection.

The devil’s greatest trick isn’t lying to us. It’s keeping us too busy, too numb, or too unsure to claim the truth. And the soul’s greatest strength is its refusal to let that be the final word.

Personal Reflection Questions

Spiritual stories are an opportunity to reflect on your own life. Here are 10 questions you can use to go deeper with the teachings in this story:

Before you begin, find a quiet place. Let your breath settle. This isn’t just a story—it’s a reckoning. Every unopened door is still waiting for you. These questions are not about guilt. They’re about possibility. They are about remembering that the only moment that matters is the one you choose right now.

What dream or vision have I quietly placed behind a door, assuming I’d get to it “later”?
What small decision today could reconnect me with a life I thought I had lost?
In what areas of my life am I simply going through the motions?
Where have I mistaken surviving for living?
What fear has most often stopped me from taking action toward something I deeply wanted?
How does it feel to imagine that my unlived dreams may still be waiting for me?
When was the last time I did something purely out of joy or love, not obligation?
What part of me “plays the devil”—convincing me to wait, to doubt, to stay small?
Whose life might I touch more deeply if I chose to be present, not perfect?
If I had only five years left, what would I stop postponing—and what would I begin today?