Zombie Dream

Last night, I dreamed I was being chased by zombies.  The early part of the dream involved lots of running, chasing, barricading myself in rooms with rickety doors (by wedging a chair under the doorknob), and approaching people I knew only to realize that they were zombies.  You could tell if they were zombies because they would stare at you without blinking and then when they opened their mouths, you could see their grey and rotted teeth.

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.