Friday, February 18, 2011
I may be so tired at this exact moment that I will fall over and plant my face on this here key board and let the sleep begin. I'm not kidding. That sounds slightly wonderful.
Last night I dreamt of zombies.
Yes. The worlds perverse obsession with all things undead crept into my sleeping brain, terrifying me with the idea of a plague that would turn everyone into some weird scary looking zombie. And here's the kicker. It wasn't the zombies that bother me. No, I'm way to desensitised to even consider rotting corpses an issue - it was my son.
In the dream when we heard of the devastation that was coming our way my husband and I took our boy to a friends house in the middle of nowhere Ohio. They too had a small child, but their area was secluded and safe.
And then we left.
Give me a break. There is NO WAY I'm leaving my child... unless...
Unless I knew it was the only way to keep him safe.
The weird thing is that I woke up. Usually if I wake up and I fall back to sleep a new fandangled dream creeps into my brain, taking me on another journey into the abyss that is my subconscious - but not this time. No... it was just later... YEARS later.
The couple who was protecting our son was down to only the man. I don't know how the woman and child died - or even if they did - but they were gone, and my son was older. He was closer to 6 or 7, not the 2 years of age I'm enjoying (most days) so much. And the man... well he was worn beyond his years.
We, my husband and I, were in the city working to dispense a vaccine, but the numbers surged and we knew it was time to flee - so we did. We ran to the country to find our baby boy and the family that had been keeping him, when we got there we realized the man had been infected. He was sitting in an old rocking chair playing the guitar, sweating profusely and relief washed over his face as we ran into the room.
I held on as long as I could, he told me and then left us alone with our boy, who I hugged like it was my only way to breath. There was a gunshot followed by screams, that was when we realized they had followed us... that was when I realized we would probably die too.
My son would be taken from me.
And I forced myself away.
I forced myself to open my crusty eyes.
I forced my tired and aching body to sit up and look around the room. And then I went down stairs and picked up my son and hugged him like it was the only way to breath.
My husband looked at me like I was crazy, but the dream was to vivid...
Now it's hours later and I'm tired... I should lay down but I'm afraid if I do - the dream will come back... maybe only if I dream in bed? What kind of dreams will I have on this here keyboard?
...hmm... I'll be sure to let you know.