For the last couple of weeks I have been suffering from nightmares. This has been a recurring trend in my life since I was a child. I have no idea why it happens but everyone once in a while, for an extended period of time, I will go weeks with little to no sleep. I was telling my friend Chris about one of my current sleepless nights and it seems that when I revisit one of my nightmares explained out loud they come off non-threatening or comedic (maybe I am just not a great story teller…hmm not something to tell an audience who is reading your blog…damn…). So let me promulgate (heard that word today and hope I am using it the right way) my latest horror and you decide if it’s scary or not…
“Oh no! They are about to break through! Arm yourself!” ordered a “friend” my subconscious had made up. He was my height, name-less, light brown hair, and looked a hell of a lot like Andrew Lincoln (Rick from The Walking Dead and dude from Love Actually). The two of us were the leaders of a “platoon” consisting of misfits armed with an array of around-the-house weapons. We took sanctuary at a local farmers market (yeah, really). The reanimated and decaying bodies were about to break through the walls we had built up around the market to protect ourselves. The war must have been raging for months. Name-less guy and I were emotionless. Our only objective was to keep everyone alive. I peered through a hole in a board blockading one of the many windows to see our enemies approaching over the horizon. It was night; the only light shined off fires burning from exploded cars and wilted stars. Their legs were dragging, black, cold eyes and their gray skin hanging or falling off. Some were missing extremities while some had entrails hanging from their abdomens. They ranged from all ethnicities and age groups. They little half-dead girls were the creepiest (I think that’s a word).
They zombies ripped through our walls like they were tissue paper. The fight for our lives was on; we don’t intend to lose. I watched the KFC colonel (yeah, he was there) blow a hole the size of a football through a zombie’s head with a shotgun. A blond, pregnant woman in overalls swung a bat at another one’s head and painted the wall with spraying zombie blood. I watched a mid-50’s pudgy man smash a half-dead’s head with a cinder block. Name-less and I were back-to-back swinging samurai swords, nun-chucks and axes (don’t ask where they came from or how I knew how to use them, it’s a nightmare, anything’s possible). Our kill-count could have been in the hundreds. We were slicing, dicing, chopping and smashing zombies by the dozen. It looked like a gorier version of that scene in Kill Bill where Uma takes on like 200 henchmen. I was out-numbered and lost all my weapons. They were everywhere, this was it; the end, and zombies were about to rip me apart like a rag doll.
Just as one was about to take his first bite on me Name-less yelled, “Cut!” Laughed to himself and then patted me on the back. “You did well.” Continuing to laugh, “Man, you should have seen your face! Okay everyone that’s a wrap!” All the zombies and civilians stopped as Name-less was laughing at me “Man, I am the best at pranks.” wiping tears from his eyes, half talking to me, and half dismissing himself. I guess this was a totally normal situation for all the characters in my sub-conscience because they all started shaking hands, hugging and pointing at me to laugh (even the football-sized hole head zombie). I guess, in my head, a totally normal prank is to trick your friend into a zombie apocalypse? Sure? I just let the good times roll and went shopping at the farmer’s market (why they hell not, I was already there defending its honor) and started drinking to excess. In fact, I got so drunk in my nightmare that the owners of the market kicked me out for causing a disturbance (even in my nightmares I rule).
This hellish nightmare is far from over also. Jamie was my ride home from the market (I have no idea where she came from) and she was a perfect church girl. She told me she was ashamed to know me or be with me. She was wearing a Sunday summer dress down to her ankles. As we got into the car she kicked my drunk-ass out of the passenger seat so her new boyfriend could ride shotgun. They both lectured me about my life and then drove me to church.
The doorways of the church were some type of portal that turned all the faithful, religious clergy members into colorful, animated, but disfigured followers (kind of like more vibrant versions of people in the Brisk commercials). Anyone who was not a faithful clergy member stayed the same. Guess who was the only one not transformed.
I woke up in a sweat and thought there was someone under my bed. Needless to say I didn’t get much sleep after that. I hope that this cycle breaks soon because it would be nice to get some sleep.
Any thoughts, comments or translations of this nightmare are encouraged. Let me know what you think or if you have a similar problem.
Cheers!
themanliestdolphin 