Yet another weird dream. This time I felt the urge to share it with the world. Though very few people seem to actually see this. Anyway, I am getting off track. So zombie dreams. According to www.dreammoods.com, dreaming about being attacked by zombies means the following:
To dream that you are attacked by zombies indicate that you are feeling overwhelmed by forces beyond your control. You are under tremendous stress in your waking life. Alternatively, the dream represents your fears of being helpless and overpowered.
I am not totally convinced but you can tell me if you think it fits in with the dream.
Starts out with me and a few other people, including my short and slight cuddly mother, walking into a large building with a predominantly steel and glass exterior with concrete pillars and floors on the inside. As with most zombie movies, the building was dark, creepy and falling into a state of ruin.
On entry we were set upon by several armed people, some carried guns and knives, others random gardening equipment or bats.
"Get out, you are not welcome here," a burly grey-haired army-looking man growled (He looked like the guy from Avatar and Terra Nova).
"You don't own the building, I didn't see 'Property of Asshole' written on the front." I said, my hands tightening on the shotgun I held. (Last time I used a shotgun I had a bruise the size of a tennis ball on my shoulder... as you can see that is a funny thought... me brandishing a firearm.)
He begrudgingly nodded his head, "Fine, you can stay but keep clear of us."
As the man and his group began to turn away, the distant but unmistakable sound of zombie-esque growling came from the hallway behind us.
"Hide, Mom!" I shouted as I turned towards the horde of the undead running lopsidedly towards us.
She found a door that lead outside and hid (didn't make much sense to me even in the dream) behind a concrete slab with a window that one could easily see her through. Apparently zombies are stupid and can't tell if a person is alive or not if they freeze.
Anyway, myself and the group we had just met fired, bashed and slammed into the first wave of zombies before they gave up and made a speedy retreat (or as speedy as a zombie can be).
My mom returned to my side and the army guy gave me a nod of approval before leaving with his posse. We searched the building for a transport device, which turned out to be a teleporter.
"We will get to the airport. It isn't too late. He will be there." I told her reassuringly.
We waited the night for some reason (possibly waiting for someone to repair the teleport pad).
In the morning, we hopped onto the teleport pad and WOOSH SPLAT! we arrived at the airport. The funny part was that the teleport pad on the other side had been damaged and stood at a decidedly bad angle, meaning that as we came through, we were flung across the tiled floor. The airport was light and strangely clean, apart from the mangled metal structure that held the teleport pad. The rows of airport chairs were filled with people, chatting and laughing. A man with an afro sat in the centre of the front row, strumming a tune that sounded vaguely familiar. He looked up as I skidded to a halt a few feet away and got to my feet. He was a light-skinned African-American (who looked like the blue-eyed doctor from Grey's Anatomy - you know the one). He smiled, got to his feet and shrugged a backpack over his shoulder, holding the guitar by the neck.
And that is where it ended. Really odd dream but funny!
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