It’s The Zombie Apocalypse!
aka: ZOMBIES~! aka: I need to see a therapist.
Over the past six to eight months, I’ve been having a series of dreams. No, I don’t mean recurring dreams, I mean a series. It’s like an entire DVD set of a television show is being played out in my mind as I sleep. It’s a damned serial!
After discussing these events with my co-workers, they’ve convinced me to blog about it to not only have a record of it so I can keep track, but apparently it’s entertaining enough that they want to keep up on it as well. So, here we go.
I’ll start with a six or seven month summary, all of which was fairly bland and boring and repetitive.
For the first large portion of this on-going serial drama playing out in the deepest, darkest recesses of the bizarre universe know as my brain, the dreams actually did have a recurring theme, but yet it was serialized. I know. Strange.
The dreams are in a summer setting, in a barren future version of Winnipeg, and began with me walking down an empty street, minding my own business. Suddenly, a veritable legion of ZOMBIES comes pouring out from the buildings on the sides of the street, falling in to one gigantic pack, limping, lumbering, dragging legs and swinging arms as only the best of zombies can with their heads lopped to one side. They have begun their sole quest, their quest for brains.
So I do what any normal, unarmed, scared shitless, non-undead human would do. I RUN FOR IT.
But here’s the kicker and the serial part of my dreams – no matter how far I run, no matter how fast I go, no matter where I hide… they always find me. This continues on for nights on end. The zombies chase me. I run away. They continue to chase me. I outrun them – which is a massive miracle in itself cause I’m a pretty big guy and the only running I normally do is to get to the door before the pizza guy leaves. But it’s an unending chain of events – they chase me, I run, run and hide, and run some more, and no matter what I do or how far I run, moments after I stop to rest the zombies are there to try and take my brains. I take off again, and invariably that’s where I would wake up.
This would go on and on for six or seven months. It’s unreal. And every night, it’s a different street, a different house, a different business or office building.
But here’s the twist. Over the last few weeks, the dreams have started evolving.
On one night, I ran into an abandoned house in search of refuge, and there it was; my first semblance of assistance throughout this whole ordeal. Leaning up against a wall, its blade gleaming, its hilt immaculately designed – a razor sharp katana sword. All the better to separate zombie heads from bodies with!
So, I proceed back out into the street, armed with my katana blade and a new found confidence, I’m prepared to fight these bastards. If I can’t outrun them, I’m going to fight them. I continue my walk through the street, blade at the ready, prepared for a zombie onslaught. Minutes, hours go by before I run into any of them, but suddenly, there it is. A lone zombie clumsily climbs through a broken window and comes lumbering towards me across the street. I arm myself with my blade, and as the zombie approaches I perform my best Sho Kosugi impersonation (look him up, folks) and liberate the zombie’s head from his shoulders.
But does the Zombie drop dead? No! He SHRUGS like it was no big deal, reaches down and picks up his head, and REATTACHES it to his neck! The chase begins anew, and once again I take off, and at this point I wake up.
At this point, I’m sharing these stories with my co-workers. Where we work, we use an AWFUL piece of software for our trouble ticketing system called Remedy. It’s usless, it crashes, it’s slow, it fails randomly, and everyone in the office absolutely hates it. So one of my co-workers christens my sword the Blade of Futility and compares it to using this software – it just doesn’t work!
The next recollection I have is running away from the aforementioned reattached-head zombie and running into another building, where I’m summarily surrounded by the undead beasts. I start hacking and slashing and fighting away with the Blade of Futility, and this time I’m actually DROPPING zombies where they stand, but the numbers are too great. The Blade of Futility is knocked from my hands, so I start punching, kicking, using every Muay Thai combo I’ve ever been shown, even ripping heads from bodies with my bare hands to fight my way through the horde and escape, thankfully with my brains intact – and I wake up.
In our next episode, I somehow reclaim the Blade of Futility on my travels, and once again face a horde of zombies – albeit a much smaller horde – and this time I manage to chop them up and lay them all to waste. SUCCESS! Or is it?
As I stand looking over the slain zombies to ensure none of them will get up and plunge a straw into my cranium and start feasting on my brains, the ground starts to quake, the concrete begins to crack, the buildings rumble and start to break apart and the very ground in front of me opens up… and this MASSIVE 20-foot tall zombie with a physique that makes Arnold Schwarzenegger on steroids look like PeeWee Herman rises up out of the rubble and stares at me like I’m going to become his next meal. Not just my brains – ALL of me.
So of course I wake up.
Are you entertained yet?
I honestly have no idea where this comes from. I really don’t have any kind of a fear of zombies. I watched Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” as a young kid and loved it. I have no idea where it’s going next. But now that we’re all up to speed and this is semi-documented for posterity, I’ll keep y’all updated as new developments happen.
Maybe I should make a movie out of this.