February 18, 2007

Dream L

I was resting on the couch when I heard a knock at the door. I got up and went to see who was there, and in the hallway was a young police officer with an enormous projector.

”Can I take a little of your time, sir?” he asked, and started to haul his projector into my apartment. I saw that, down the hall, he had lashed together several conference tables and was prepared to bring those inside as well.

I used my arm to block the doorway. ”What’s this about?” I asked. I looked at the assembled furniture. “I’m pretty sure I don’t have enough room for all that.”

”If you’ll let me in, I’m sure I can arrange everything so that there’s plenty of room,” he said.

"That’s not the point,” I said. “I have a small apartment, and—“

”This will only take a short amount of your time,” he said. He looked up at me earnestly.

”Look,” I said after a moment, “I support the police wholeheartedly, I give money to the—“

”Oh, you’ve already paid?” he interrupted. “Well, then, I’ll just be on my way.” He smiled and started dragging his equipment back down the hall. I quickly closed the door and went back inside.

February 11, 2007

Dream XLIX

I was in a large hospital, in charge of security, and I was told there were dead bodies in the basement. So I took some folks down with me to investigate.

We found the bodies underneath the stairwell. They were a bright shade of green, and dressed in civilian clothes. As we came across them, they started to stir, weakly, and I knew they were zombies.

I brought everyone back upstairs and ordered the building sealed. “I don’t want even a germ getting out,” I said. I then ordered a bus driven around to take us all home.

On the drive back, I noticed that several zombies were already among the populace. They were strange, fragile things; they looked like someone had given a coat of paint to a balloon, then removed the balloon, leaving the fragile skin behind.

One zombie in a business suit had a gunshot wound in the center of his forehead, and the cracks in his shell traveled around his head like rays, like the lines from a meteor strike on the moon. You could see inside the cracks, and his entire head was hollow. It was almost beautiful to watch him as we passed by.

Back at home, there was a country person in the spare bedroom. His daughter was outside playing, and he didn’t seem concerned at all about the zombies. He explained that his wife had become one, “once the fever reaches one hundred and nine, it’s pretty much over.”

I’d never heard of a fever that high, so I supposed he was correct. I didn’t think to ask if the wife was around.