Night before last, I dreamed obsessively about tile. That was pretty bad.

Last night, I had a bizarre and complex nightmare about a zombie apocalypse–I’ve been playing a lot of "Plants vs. Zombies," I grant you, but these were not cheerful googly-eyed zombies, these were quasi-intelligent fast zombies, more on the order of the possessed or the body-snatched. This would have been difficult enough to deal with, but there were also giant Tripods on the loose (probably controlling the zombies) which would show up Steven-Spielburg-remake-of-War of the Worlds style*, and drop a whole horde of bug-like critters, ala Cloverfield, which would run around attacking people.

From this we can gather that my subconscious has a hard time keeping movies straight.

Anyway, it was long and complicated and unpleasant. It was one of those where I was just barely able to nudge the dream in points–not like lucid dreaming or anything, but while I couldn’t change the script, I could write in additional bits. Mostly those involved Ben and Gir, who were traveling with me. So I’d be running through a labyrinthine ruined building, beams down everywhere, in some weird little Mad Max-esque frontier town, hiding from zombies with shotguns (zombies should not get shotguns! Shotguns are for protagonists!) who are charging absurd tolls on the road through town, get involved in a trial the zombies are holding on a normal individual, get loose, dodge more shotguns, hide from Tripod searchlights, fend off an amorous female zombie who thinks I’d be a great girlfriend if I’d be a little more undead, blow up the building–and as I’m hurrying off down the sidewalk, Ben would jump on my shoulder. Apparently I was using all of my dream-altering mojo keeping the pets around. (Typical.)

I kept trying to get back to this farm that apparently Kevin and I owned, and I kept getting trapped in buildings, or driving like a lunatic on the freeway with a giant Tripod chasing me. I woke up before I got back.

Ironically, it still wasn’t as bad as all those hellish dreams the night before that the tile had been cut wrong.

*Including that specific grinding-siren sound effect.

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