So I woke at about 0630 this morning from the point in the dream where Johnnie Zed and his shambling buddies had just broken into the house I was in with a bunch of people and were milling about violently. It wasn’t my house, or any house I’ve lived in or even really recall having been in (the floor plan was a tad unfamiliar).
Two things struck me as odd after I woke up (aside from having remembered a dream – that’s really unusual for me). First of all, I was aware in the dream of having barricaded this house against zombies before and was wondering why we weren’t reinforcing the locations they had broken in at that time. Secondly, I was ineffectually fending them off with a broken broom handle. Whyfor no firearm, dream self? It wasn’t that I couldn’t get to one; it never occurred to my dreaming self. I demand a better-armed subconscious, Mr. Sandman!