I Have A (Recurring) Dream

Every few months, I have a dream about zombies. Usually they’re pretty much what you might expect – me and a chainsaw against an unstoppable legion of the sewer-dwelling undead, all set against the backdrop of a post-apocalyptic world gone mad. Or, given that armageddon would probably make everyone’s day to day a little off-kilter, maybe it’s technically a post-apocalyptic world gone sane. But I digress.

The reason why I have these dreams is a bit of a mystery, especially since my zombie-related anxiety peaked with “the incident” in ’93 and has been in steady decline ever since. I mean, I guess there’s a chance they’re prophetic visions and that I’m destined to become the king of a zombified world – with my first decree being to rename Zamibia to “Zombibia”, Mozambique to “Mozombique” and so on down the list – but I find that unlikely since the chances of zombies adopting a monarchy (zombarchy?) are pretty slim.

Point is, last night’s jaunt into dreamland was different from the zombie dreams I’ve had in the past. In it, having realized that the chances of bringing a world of hurt to a world of zombies weren’t exactly in my favor, I constructed an army of killer robots to help me get the job done. The plan worked just as it’s depicted in the above portrait of “Pissed Off Water Heater vs. Undead Businessman,” with my merciless metal men dispatching the zombie hordes to their last. In fact, it was only as the bone dust settled – leaving me faced with an endless sea of Kill-Bots – that I realized I’d made something of a critical oversight in the design phase. Don’t ask me why, but for some reason I’d built the damn things to be powered by living human flesh. The dream ended as they started walking toward me, metal jaws snapping open and shut.

I’m choosing not to analyze this as my subconscious’ desperate plea for me to stop replacing real-world obstacles with metallic killing machines of my own creation. I’m speaking metaphorically, of course, unless you count the lawnmower/hairdryer hybrid I’m tinkering with in my garage. Instead, I’m looking at this dream as a prophetic vision all the way. Which is why if anyone needs me, I’ll be fashioning a crown out of scrap metal while replacing Uzbekistan with “Uzombekistan” on every map I can find.