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December 19th, 2005

fever dreams @ 01:29 am

Current Mood: blah blah

On Friday, I went home early because I had a vaguely sore throat and a headache. I almost never get headaches, so I figured it was a pretty good sign that something was up; finally got in bed after wrassling with my pooter for five hours, played nethack for a bit, and then slept for fourteen or sixteen hours. Today, much the same. I'm feeling better - but the dreams were a little weird.

Last night's was kind of boring - it was a typical 'yell at my grandmother for being cold, and my brother for being conservative' dream; ended up bawling at some point. I don't remember why I was so upset, but the dream didn't make a whole lot of sense in general. Probably just emotional catharsis. Friday night's, though...

I was in this clubhouse sort of thing, where we were watching the sun go down and preparing to deal with the oncoming hordes of evil nasties; we had a full array of firearms, but we weren't sure what to expect. I had an oddly-shaped light blue ceramic .40 pistol that felt like it was foam-covered steel, and looked vaguely like a kegelcizer with a handgrip and a trigger. About half an hour after the sun went down we got our first visitor; he looked vaguely vampire-like with his facial disfigurements, but was really a zombie. Shooting him made him all cross, and I was given a .45 to perhaps deal with him better. The .45 got him to go away, at least; we took stock of our surroundings, and I yelled at a few people who'd left the doors and windows open. When a horde of zombiethings started invading, however, some of them kept on mumbling about the paper. Some bright person explained that this was the the instructions they needed for their souls to be released and to go on to the afterlife; however, in lieu of actual instructions, it sufficed to chow down on pumpkin and pomegranate seeds - presumably the former was the spirital associations with halloween, and the latter as a reference to Persephone and the underworld. Finally, a breather.

The next wave, however, was much more annoying. Still zombies, but they couldn't be killed, and wouldn't leave. They didn't seem terribly interested in hurting or maiming; they mostly just walked around and went 'auuunnnnngh' and moaned a lot. There was a brief cutscene of the Evil Guy (who looked a lot like Ming the Merciless) walking around and chuckling evilly, and then back to the main action. As it turns out, these zombies wanted to... talk. To bitch and moan about how they were unloved, and how nobody understood them, etc. Zombie drama queens, oy. I had to smooch on a couple of them, which was icky. (As a brief digression, most of the zombies in my dreams are pretty damn attractive, and are actually humans wearing makeup. These, however, were actual zombies, didn't smell very good, and were rotting and mushy. Yeech. Too bad, they'd have made damn cute zombie actresses.) Finally, after letting them vent for a while, and nodding sympathetically, they expired and went on to whatever else. Whew! This was a lot more taxing than the first round, due to the emotional strain, and we decided that it was a good time to go to dinner.

At the restaurant (which might have been the one which I dreamt about on Thursday night, but I'm not sure - it was some OutbaChiliBennigaFriday's type establishment), things got really screwed up by Ming; instead of zombies rising from the grave to bitch about their rotten childhoods, people's ids got turned to max, their cognitive function down to nil - and they started doing all sorts of crazy shit. For some reason, I was the only unaffected person (save for the waitstaff, who didn't really care about what was happening) and I had to cajole people back to normality. I saw mal and allida floating in a gigantic fishtank, making out; it looked really cool, but they were quickly going to asphyxiate. I hauled them out, but after a bout of coughing and sputtering, they went right back at it. It seems this was the final straw - I'd been trying to talk to Allida all night and was mostly ignored, and I couldn't deal with things any more, and thus I laid down on the floor, went fetal, and started to shriek. Just before I woke up, I realized that the amount of distress I had was enough to disrupt whatever it was Ming had done. On fully waking up, my first thought was 'What the fuck?'; the second was 'Gee, do I have issues?'; the third was 'But... Meg and Allida have never met!'

Not entirely restful and calming, that.
 
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From:dr_beep
Date:December 19th, 2005 05:00 pm (UTC)
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That Ming sure is dastardly!

I tend to often hit that point in zombie dreams where they aren't really a threat, just more sort of disturbing, in the way, and a potential looming threat to be.

Guns usually don't work then and I have to resort to crossbows, pencils, or other pointy things to the head.
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From:subtly_modded
Date:December 19th, 2005 10:16 pm (UTC)
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my dreamscape is rife with the undead. they've just turned into background now, mostly. but the zombie drama queens -- uuuuuugh. too much to deal with!
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From:chomp
Date:December 20th, 2005 01:15 am (UTC)
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:( *hug*

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