Eventually, fate caught up with me and I was bitten on the arm by Brock Rittenhouse, an old high school friend [that I haven't seen in 30 years]. I turned to my companions and began repeating over and over again, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”
We all sat down to wait for the change—of me, into a zombie. We did various things—read, cleaned….I was sewing. Then suddenly, a fogginess enveloped me and I went limp. I shouted to those around me, “Good-bye, good-bye, good-bye!”
Now I’m sure those of you who are reading this are sure that it’s an allegory for what’s happening in my life right now. I would be inclined to agree with that, too, but this dream has a punchline. Read on….
After the fogginess passed, I went back to sewing, the only thing having changed was that I was now officially a zombie. I sat and sewed…and sewed and sewed and sewed. And then I said, “Wow. My attention span is a lot longer now that I’m a zombie.”
End of dream. I woke up.