Happy July everyone! And if you are a Canadian, a very extra special happy Canada Day to you. I imagine Canada Day is probably the most polite holiday ever. How do you celebrate Canada Day anyway? I cannot help but feel that copious amounts of hockey are involved, along with a few well-mannered moose to balance things out.
Is it hot where you live? It’s hot here. Fresno is, like, olde Spanish for “the hottest hellhole on earth”. Just kidding, it’s Spanish for “ash tree”. The weather forecast for today says 111 degrees, so if you’re a central valley resident I would advise staying indoors, keeping the AC cranked up, and not moving a whole lot. That’s my plan, anyway. Then I ruined it by going to the gym and sweating a lot. I didn’t last very long.
But hey, this is a dream diary, so enough about my sweat. You came here to read about my night time perversions (no, not those perversions) so here we go.
Last night I dreamed that a zombie apocalypse ended the world. Woah, wait, let me back up. Zombie dreams are old hat for me. I have them a lot. So often that I am pretty sure I’m some sort of crazy prophet predicting the collapse of the world beneath the weight of the undead. Or, maybe I just watch too much of the Walking Dead. Either way.
So last night the world ended and zombies ran amok. These weren’t your typical shambling, groaning, horridly decomposed and bloody movie zombies though. I wish they had been. Those are cool. These were just regular people who weren’t even dead, just…I don’t know…entranced? But they were effectively zombies. There were thousands of them and no place was safe. I was holed up in some sort of school or office building with my family and a few friends, trying to figure out how to escape when every inch of the grounds outside were crawling with zombies.
My grandfather was with us. This is where the dream goes from “oh cool a zombie dream!” to a nightmare. Somehow my grandfather got taken by zombies. I don’t remember how. One minute he was with us and the next he was gone and we never saw how or why. Thank God I didn’t have a dream about my grandfather being eaten by zombies.
We were trapped in a room trying to find a way out, but it had a lot of windows and we could see the hordes of zombies outside. My dad was telling me to put tennis shoes on so we could run, but I was already wearing tennis shoes. My favorite pair of neon purple Nike cross-trainers, actually. But he insisted, so I was trying a huge pair of white tennis shoes on over my purple ones. Because I’m logical like that.
Then we saw my grandfather walk past the window, and while he wasn’t bloody or gross we just knew he was one of them. He came right up to the window where we were standing and looked in at us, with this kind of sad, confused, curious expression. Like maybe somewhere down inside he recognized us. And then he attacked the window, and mom started crying (that’s her dad, by the way) and we had to run.
That’s where I lost the dream, and I’m glad. It hurts a lot to think of losing someone I love so much like that. Thanks a lot, subconscious. Screw you, too.
Speaking of my subconscious, I think it takes the opportunity every night to torment me. A few nights back I had a lovely dream that I was pregnant. I was feeling really awful about it because I was faced with the prospect of telling my family that I was pregnant, unwed, and unemployed at the same time. It was one of those very realistic dreams where every emotion and scenario is pretty much exactly how it would be in the real world. And I was doubly unhappy because I knew I had been fairly judgmental about unwed mothers in the past and now I was one, and everyone who ever heard me bitch about it was going to know I was a hypocrite. It was a very uncomfortable dream.
And that’s it outta me. Enjoy the heat (or stay the heck out of it, whatevs) and have a great July folks!
The Girl Writes 