Yes, so I had a dream about a zombie apocalypse. It was amazing – you know, if things turned out my way.
The clouds were overcast, but you could hear them coming. You feel like they can hear you, like they can hear your heart pounding in your chest – but you remember that they can’t hear. But what if they could feel – yes, they could. And you’re paranoid about how they could feel your heartbeat vibrating against the earth, and that’s what leads them towards you.
You usher the younger kids into the tower, and they all scramble up the stairs. As you reach another level, you turn and lock the door, turning the knob twice to double-lock it. You think that by doing this, maybe they won’t reach the higher levels. You keep going higher and higher, sliding more doors and locking them shut. Finally, you reach the top – and you forget how rickety the bloody tower is. Through the wood, you see the vast expanse of ground. The younger kids creep closer to the center, while you and a couple of the older kids stand guard.
And you see them. It starts to rain.
You think that maybe you should have stayed down a couple of levels. The younger kids huddle closer together, and so do you and the older kids – you’re scared that they can see you from down there, that they’ll know you’re at the top of the tower with no other way out.
When the rain stops, you tell the kids to move down. You know that on one of the levels, it can transport you to another tower. You waste no time.
You’re in the supermarket, picking up any kind of goods that will keep those bastards away. Most of the adults have transformed, and you feel the higher pressure to protect the kids. No amount of magical fire could keep the rest of them away, and that scares you more than anything. One of the other older kids clutches the sword with the fire ablaze against the tip of the metal, while another older kid keeps the rest of the fire in the jar. Around you, you start grabbing things that would ward them off – apparently, sugar and vinegar. You don’t recall the rest.
You grab the nearest bottles of vinegar. Then you hear them approach.
The rest is a blur – you tossing the vinegar, you scrambling for sugar and even more bottles, anything – the younger kids scrambling off out of the supermarket with the rest of the protective gear – the decision that the older kids have to stay behind and fight them.
With a fierce determination, you grab spilled vinegar from the floor. Your heart is pounding, but your expression is grim. And despite the fact that you toss it into the zombie’s face, all it does is grin evilly at you in reply.
The rest fades to black – and you wake up.
I hated this dream.