For the past few weeks, I can’t seem to escape a night without having multiple dreams populated with horrific zombies in pursuit of my flesh. Last night, the dreams were extra memorable:
I found myself in my childhood house. I stood outside at the very edge of the driveway and saw movement out of the corner of my eye. I turned to see three zombies by the swing set, taking note of my presence and coming for me.
These zombies had some interesting features (zombie 3.0 Beta version, I think). They sported the usual rotten bodies… half face/half skull, shreds of flesh dangling with shreds of muddied clothing. They generally lumbered along, but they had ‘burst of speed.’
Can you imagine a zombie creeping up on you from behind with burst of speed? It happened to me in the stairwell. (God knows why I decided to escape the zombie by going upstairs into a confined room. Maybe I was attempting to get up on the roof and throw the zombie off… I’m not necessarily the most intelligent person in my dreams, evidently.)
I ascended the stairs, and a zombie came upon me with burst of speed. I had to kick it off. Thank god it didn’t bite me. Now get this, I grab a PENCIL to protect myself (thinking I could puncture its skull, har har).
At this point the zombie starts singing. SINGING? Yes. Not the typical nasty moan you might expect. No, this was a siren’s call. It sounded so alluringly beautiful… haunting and pleasant… I had to turn around. I gaze upon this putrified thing at the bottom of the steps with brimming eyes. It sang at me again (Sang at me, ha!). I felt sorry for it. The sound made me long to go cuddle it and tell it that everything would be OK.
I shook it off, plugged my ears and continued to run upstairs.
The zombie realized it hadn’t fooled me. So again comes another BURST OF SPEED.
This time, I had to whip around and stab it in the head with the pencil.
For some strange reason, this worked. The zombie died at my feet. My skin still unscathed.
BUT then another zombie rounded the corner and gave me the siren call.
At that moment, little Atlas cried, wanting a midnight snack. This jolted me out of the dream, but the adrenaline was flowing!
I fed my son, felt compelled to peek out the window to make sure that zombies weren’t swarming around the house, and went back to bed thinking, “Wouldn’t it just be my luck for zombies to appear on the doorstep on the 4th of July?”
… and so did more zombies.
This time, I find myself in some sort of a corporate building with marble floors. I’m perhaps 30 stories up. I hear someone walking in the halls with high heels. I don’t see this person, but I know it’s a zombie.
How do I know?
By the footsteps.
A normal business woman with heels on walks with a steady ‘thock, thock, thock, thock.’ At a pace of about 60 beats per second, I’d say.
This thing walked with a ‘thock’ paaauuuuse ‘thock’ paaaauuuuuuse ‘thock’
In general, this was a good thing. It meant the zombie didn’t have BURST OF SPEED!
But it was still too close for comfort.
I was in an office room. If I ran out the front, I would confront the zombie head on. (And god knows how many more). I opted to go out the window.
There seemed to be a ledge just above the window that I could grab onto, but I had to hoist myself up.
At this point, the zombie was in the room, a mere 30 feet away max. I couldn’t seem to get the leverage to jump up onto the ledge, and I risked falling 30 stories to my death. I gave one final tremendous kick and pulled with all my might. I got up onto the ledge and looked down to see a decayed arm grabbing the air where my legs had just been. There was candy apple red nail-polish on what remained of her fingernails.
I woke up when I saw it crawling out the window after me. I was trapped on a ledge. Now there was definitely nowhere else to go but down… either down this zombie’s gullet, or down to a bloodied mess on the concrete below.
At this point I thought, how could I possibly dream AGAIN about zombies, so I felt safe to drift off into another round of sleep.
This time, I found myself trapped in a fancy house with a little girl. The house was nicely barricaded with provisions to last for awhile. The zombies seemed to be collected a million deep around the house, though. I could barely see that it was night outside. A full moon, too.
At this point, the little girl, who is very pale, starts to go into seizures. She says, “I forgot to tell you… I’m a werewolf.”
I have to contend with a werewolf AND millions of zombies?
So, I begin to choke the little girl out, hoping I can kill her before she turns. (I know, brutal, huh?)
In the middle of the choke out, she breathes out and gives me the pouty face. At this point, I have to stop. I can’t continue to choke her out. Besides, she’s the only thing non zombie around that I could relate to. I would miss her.
I release her, sit down, and try to ask her whether or not she will try to kill me once she turns, or if she would have any measure of self control. Not that she WOULDN’T want to kill me after I attempted to kill her or anything. (Since when were dreams logical, anyway?)
I wake up again before she turns. Now I can’t resist. I have to tell my husband all about it.
My husband is just as warped as I am in thought… he says, “What would you do if I played an elaborate practical joke on you. I should hire about 15 actors to dress up as zombies and stage a full-on zombie attack on the street. I’d get them to cut the power, cut the phone lines, disable your cell… Stage a car wreck on the street. Have the woman step out of the car and get eaten by a horde of zombies…”
I said, “You do that, and someone is liable to end up dead for real.” God knows what I would do in self defense. I am scared of what my fight or flight instincts would do in such an instance.
That said, the moral of this story is… don’t pretend to be a zombie around me thinking that it would be funny. I may try to stick a pencil through your skull.