Feb. 11th, 2010

whiski_sour: (the horror!)
I dreamed about zombies last night. I've been dreaming about them a lot lately. I would imagine it's because I spent most of December and January reading The Living Dead and I've been working almost exclusively on two different short stories that feature zombies.

This dream was a little different, though, because while in some dreams in which bad shit is going down I'll scream and run (hello, self-preservation!), I do not flail. I scream and run and try to think of a plan like how to escape or fight off whatever I'm running from. Like Earl said in Tremors, running ain't a plan. Running is what you do when a plan fails.

Anyway, in last night's dream, I flailed. I mean like a girly-girl who just saw a bug or a rat or a snake. Like that. I was in a house and zombies were trying to get in both the front and back door and I was running in back and forth between them, flapping my hands and screaming "What do I do? What do I do?" as I ping-ponged. To which my sister appears out of nowhere, hands me a bow and a quiver a set of arrows, and tells me to quit my screaming and just shoot them. Which I did.

I woke with two thoughts in my head:

1. The dream could have used more Woody Harrelson.

2. I bet most people would find the zombies, not the girly flailing, the most terrifying part of the dream.

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Cheshyre

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