Sometimes I Dream of … Zombies

This morning I dreamt of zombies.

I have had zombie dreams before.  In those I was on the survivor end.  I would wake up very tired.  It is hard work surviving a Zombie Apocalypse.

Today’s was a bit different, in that it was a 3rd person point of view and ‘we’ were the zombies.

A bunch of people are heading out of the airport.  A father with two kids, one about 12 the other about 5, is having trouble juggling a backpack, duffel bag and the children.  We swing into position a few feet behind the fathers head.

“Dad, I want a piggy back!” says the older child.

“I can’t carry you and your brother.  You need to walk.”  The older child promptly falls on the floor and pouts. “NO!”

The father stops in sight of the doors to the parking garage.  Puts the duffel bag and younger child down.  He turns and gestures the older child to hop on his back, over the rather flat backpack.  “Get, on.  We can’t miss the bus.”

The father grabs the duffel bag and the hand of the younger child and moves out the door to the parking garage.

The father and children are now in different cloths rushing to the back of a department store.  The father keeps looking behind him.  As they near the storage and loading dock area of the store we start to see bodies with grey military issue blankets covering them.  The father picks up the younger child and grabs the older ones hand.   They step over and around the blanketed bodies.  The older child touches one of the blankets, takes a few steps and falls down.  The father lets his hand go and keeps walking.

As he passes through the door way leading to the darkened back rooms a girl in her 20’s hands him a blanket.  Not thinking he brushes it away, takes a few steps and falls to the floor.

As we pan over the blankets and bodies we overhear a conversation between to muffled voices.

“So you read that IM to?”

“Yeah. Who would have thought that it could actually happen”

“Not me. This is so lame.”

We come back into focus over the father, who is getting up.  He looks very disheveled, but other than that looks “healthy.”  He stumbles over to the older child’s body on the floor.  Shakes him and asks “Did you read it?” He gasps for air. “DID YOU READ IT?!”

“No.”  The older son replies, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Liar.  You would be outside with your brother if you hadn’t.”  He turns away in disgust and looks at the others that are milling in the area.

“Why doesn’t anyone look at us!”  We here a shrill voice shout.  “They are not looking!”

We move from behind the father to stand by a girl in her mid 20’s.  She has long wavy brown hair and is wearing a light top and jeans, also looking disheveled. “They will not look at me! Why wouldn’t they look at me?”

We shift views to see twenty to thirty disheveled looking individuals moving to intercept customers walking through the store.  The disheveled people jump in the paths of the customers, shout at them, try to trip them and grab them.  The customers show little to no response.  The most noticeable is that one customer changes course to look at a product instead of heading towards the registers and another swerves around the person blocking his path.

As we watch we see the girl has changed her cloths and is wearing a skirt.  As she walks around the main aisles something dark slides down her legs, like he pants are falling off.  A voice shouts “That is a shirt, moron!”  The girl looks up, smiles, steps out of the shirt, and puts it on.  Then she laughs and runs into a side aisle.

A group of disheveled people gather together and slowly but steadily a buzz of voices can be heard.  They consolidate into a chant “We are the Dead.  We are the Dead…” 

The disheveled, self proclaimed dead line up down the aisles, chanting.  They slowing move out into the main aisles trying to gain attention.

“We are the Dead.  We are the Dead. We are the Dead…”

A click from the overhead pager system can be heard…

… And I woke up.

That was my crazy zombie dream.  I wonder what happens next.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s