Tuesday, March 23, 2004

I had a zombie dream this weekend. Not good. Needless to say, I didn't get much sleep that night.

Strange thing, though. It was unlike most of the zombie dreams I've had. Usually, as I've mentioned before, I'm being chased by zombies through some sort of old house. Classic George Romero.

This time, I was in an office building. Not my building, mind you. Very open, lots of window. In fact, I think it was probably based on the observation deck at the World Trade Center.

As usual, I was being chased by zombies. I was telling Stuff about the dream and he asked me if I recognized any of them. Fortunately, the zombies have never been anyone I know, though now that he planted this horrible seed, I'm sure my next zombie dream will feature undead versions of my friends and family. Oh, goody. Something to look forward to.

Anyway, since my dreams are often fairly lucid, I was able to reason that the last place one wants to be during a fire or zombie infestation is on an elevator. So I was running around on stairs, through offices, etc., always with the zombies right behind me. Fortunately, the very fact that this was one of my more lucid dreams, I was able to wake myself.

Just a note, when I wake myself from dreams, it is usually because something happens that jars me awake. This can be something physical like falling or getting shot or something like that. Or something emotional . . . if I start crying in my dream, that usually wakes me up. Or something logical like having something happen in my dream that so offends reason that I wake up.

Logic broke me out of my zombie dream this time. At one point, I had closed a glass door and was leaning against it when the zombies started beating on it and trying to open it. Somehow I was able to keep it closed (I guess living muscles are stronger than reanimated ones), so one of the zombies started pushing the bottom of the door and it started to bend and curl like a sheet of metal.

I was so outraged by the fact that a glass door was bending instead of breaking or shattering or whatever that I woke up.

The curious thing is that my logical mind had a problem with glass behaving like metal, but no problem whatsoever with flesh-eating reanimated corpses chasing me through a high-rise office building. Somehow, that passed right through the old logic filters.

God, I hate zombies.

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