My Crazy Dream


Let’s see how much I can remember.

For backstory, this was one of those dreams that I was seriously planted RIGHT into it. All of the emotions I was feeling felt real, all of the dialogue I fel like was actually being said, all the chaos actually felt like was happening. So it starts off with Eric Brown, the guy who took me to the oral surgeon’s office, and myself. We are walking on some street, not far from his parked car. When all of a sudden, we start seeing these people acting really weird. Almost comatose. We think it’s weird, but we kinda shrug it off. So we enter the shop we were walking to in the first place. The second we step into the shop, it is red-dead obvious. Every person in the shop was either dead or being eaten into by very sick looking people. I stand there looking at the mess thinking to myself, “This isn’t possible. This can’t be happening. I’ve seen this scene over and over in movies and video games, but this can’t happen in real life. This isn’t real. This must be a set of a movie or something.”  Suddenly Brown grabs me and says,

“We need to get out of here, NOW.”

I am slow to react, mesmerized by the impossible scene before me, but the images are too real to ignore. This is Real. This is Happening. I follow Brown out of the shop in a very brisk run back to the car. Suddenly those comatose people are now serious threats to me staying alive. I avoid them with more intentionality. We jump into the car faster than we had the 1000 times previously on days much more normal than today. Days without…zombies? Ugh, it still seemed so weird to say. In the drive out of the town, we are silent for about 60 seconds, just taking everything in. I stare at the dashboard, Brown stares at the road. My mind is racing. I had playfully created scenarios of what to do if there was ever a situation like this in real life. Playfully. Because it would NEVER happen. None of the scenarios were making their way to the surface. All I could think about was what to do now. I break the silence.

“Dude, we need to arm ourselves. Our hands are just not going to cut it.” Brown agrees and changes course. “Is this even happening??” I plead with my friend. Brown answers without hesitation,

“Yeah man. We need to keep focused. I need your head. Okay?”

“Yeah…” And I return to sit relaxed in the car seat. I had been on the edge of the seat for the past 10 minutes.

We arm ourselves with ammo and rudimentary guns that haven’t already been raided from shops. For some reason we begin to enter a sports arena. The catacombs under the stadium are a very bad place to be right now. Narrow halls, moderately lit, at any moment we could run out of ammo trying to fend off hundreds of infected. We walk in anyway. cautiously, we surface out of the entrance to the field. I peak my head into the stadium seating and notice people moving around. They notice me too and shout out for me to identify myself.

“We’re Friendly!” I shout up to them. I look at Brown and we share a look that says, how the heck could they know that? 

Gratefully, they let us up and we start climbing the stairs into the seating area from the field. As I get closer, I notice that one of the leaders of this pack is a very old friend of mine since I was eight years old. Corey Olsen. I embrace him in a one arm hug, since I am holding onto my shotgun. I hadn’t seen him in over ten years. We weren’t close friends anymore, but any friendly face gave a flood of relief. I also notice a familiar face of a guy I worked with at a summer camp in Evart, MI. Being that this is a dream, this doesn’t seem weird. And neither does what is coming next. We talk for a bit, and I ask who is in charge of this group. Up a flight of stadium stairs in front of me, dressed in a black trench jacket walks in Samuel Jackson.

“Samuel Jackson?! Oh man! It is good to see you!”

“We should get out of here.” Jackson demands.

Right as he says that, we notice that many infected have made there way into the stadium and were climbing there way up to us. I turn to Jackson to have him explain more about our escape.

“Get to the cars. Now!”

Everyone, like they had done this before, start to exit at the top of the stadium. The cars are all parked outside and we form a convoy out of there. We travel for what seems like a couple hours and pass by this little town. There is a biker behind Brown’s car, who is apart of our convoy. As we pass by a few shops that look like they have some promise, we quickly notice that they have been ransacked. One such shop has, what we can see, a gang of bikers who don’t look like very much fun. We keep driving, but the biker behind us, starts talking smack to them to eg them on.

“Oh great,” I motion to Brown behind us, “That guy is an idiot.” And turns out, he was. The gang of bikers began to suit up to follow us and ride us down. That’s when chaos ensues. The biker behind us is picked off pretty easily. A few cars infront of us explode as the bikers start their fun. We are dodging and making sweeping drifts around debris, but eventually we clip something and it takes out the entire front right side of the car. We flip and eventually come to a stop.

This is where the dream ends, and I awake.

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