Dreamstime: Zombies

I often have quite vivid and disturbing dreams. Last night's was no exception, I was dreaming from the point of view of one of my characters, Remmy. This often happens and never feels weird, surely that's good character creation. So, the dream is below, written from Remmy's POV.

It was dark and it was quiet, I sat staring at the bookcase in an otherwise empty room. I had to have a plan, there had to be a way of getting out of this place. The people I was with were useless, just as terrified as I was. Soon I decided that we needed to break out, the doors and windows were all boarded up, we needed to get to the roof.

I proceeded to clear the bookcase, I could break through the ceiling and up onto the roof. Everything was discarded and it was only a photograph of my grandfather, a few years before he'd died. I contemplated taking it with me but eventually threw it on the floor with everything else. What was the point of having a photo of one family member, I needed to see them all and I couldn't.

We got onto the roof, I didn't look at the zombies surrounding us, I blocked them out and just ran. I don't remember the journey but soon we were in a club. It was empty and so weird to see a place like this so quiet. The people I was with got excited, possibly more about the fact they had reign over a club rather than the fact that we were out of danger.

But we weren't. "We need to barricade the doors and windows!" I shouted. I didn't know if zombies could open doors but I didn't want to find out.

Suddenly there was a blast of music and I turned around, horrified. One of my comrades was in the DJ booth blasting whatever shit dance music happened to have been played last. I screamed at him to shut it off but he didn't, either he couldn't hear me or he didn't care. Then one of the walls started to rattle and I realised it was a huge floor-to-ceiling door. It was moving someone - or something - was trying to get in.

The music stayed playing and I could hardly hear myself think as I tried to gather the rest of the group to hold the door shut. But we were pushed back, for a moment I could see out into the blackness. A horde of zombies stood at our door. The one nearest to me, a woman, dressed in pink, had her head hanging off her shoulders. I let out some terrified noise before I was pushed back by a man in green scrubs and the door was pushed shut.

I looked around. There were now more people in this club and the music had stopped. We'd avoided letting any zombies in and instead had allowed in a new group of people. Two of them seemed to be surgeons, dressed all in green, covered in blood and carrying guns. I knew the man at the head of the group, the surgeon who had turned off the music. He was a tall black man, he carried a shot gun and walked with a swagger that pissed me off.

I sunk into the shadows of the club. He'd accused me of being a drug addict a long time ago and he'd been wrong.


The Undertaker: said...

A vivid picture you paint miss Wilde! The decision to write down your dreams is a good one!

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