I have two recurring dreams.
Zombies and Aliens.
I blame my parents divorce and weekend’s at Dad’s when I was too little to watch horror movies. He loved horror flicks. Almost as much as he loved staying up late, and eating Tony’s pizza smothered in mozzarella.
I grew to love them too. Then, I got old and didn’t like being scared in a movie anymore. Give me a chick flick any day and yet….I still dream in horror? Maybe, I still have a hidden love for it? Is that inherited?
Normally my standard Zombie Dream involves a race to the “safe” place which happens to be a graveyard on a hill. Yeah. I don’t get the logic either. I don’t why it is holy ground, but it is. Ha. My Dad had quite the sense of humor too. And maybe that is from him.
This Zombie Dream was a little different. You either got sick with the flu and that’s it, or you got sick with the flu, and turned into a brain-eating Zombie.
In my dream, I saw many family members rushing to be at the side of their sick child or spouse and I wanted to say, “Noooooo! Don’t do it! You are going to be a Zombie!”
But in the end, I wondered………if one my family got sick with the Zombie Flu……..wouldn’t I be there? Or would I run away and save myself?
Maybe this wasn’t my typical run-for-your-life Zombie Dream. Maybe this one had depth. The meaning of life and family embedded into the flesh of it. It had brains (heh!).
I awoke before finding a safe place. I awoke before the world ended. I awoke before my family was infected and I had to make that decision.
My only explanation for this dream is dealing with the after-math of injuries from the Jeep wreck. It’s been three weeks and the injuries are healing, but the wounds are still fresh in my mind.
Not to mention, I had the most traumatic encounter to date earlier in the week. Here is how it happened………
I woke up. I let the dogs out of their crates. I went to the bedroom door and opened it. The dogs (as they always do) raced ahead to the living room. We have a routine of potty time, then breakfast time, and they get soo, soo, soo very excited about that. Normally, Sydney is getting ready in the bathroom and I wave at her as I walk by the doorway in the hall.
Except, this time, when I waved I felt something under my foot (my bare foot).
It didn’t feel right.
I looked down as it’s head came up and it’s eyes bulged out (because I was stepping on it).
Stepping on a snake – IN THE HALLWAY – of my house! Inside. My house. My safe place. Ahhhhhhhhh!
I really didn’t scream. I just kinda choked and I ran. I left my teen daughter in the bathroom where the snake was headed.
I took the dogs outside, trying to shake the utter terror out of my sight. But I couldn’t (still can’t). When I got back in the house, Sydney was safe in the living room (phew!). The snake was safe(?) in the bathroom. I took one look and knew I couldn’t handle it. I know it’s not that big and all, but still, it can jump.
I had to wake up my injured husband – who is terrified of snakes. Probably more than me, which makes me really glad I stepped on it and not him (sorta).
At that point it was by the tub. Of course I took pictures
for my blog to remember this event.
Not only did I survive the apocalypse of 2011, but I survived stepping on a snake in my house.
No wonder I have Zombie Dreams.
To date, I am a paranoid walker. I don’t step anywhere without looking……..I carry a flashlight (my iPhone) at all times, because I don’t want to cross paths with this again ~shudder~.
Jason put our reptile house mate back in the yard…..in hopes it would find another home….hopefully?…it did…..to be continued.