Outside the Dome

I have never been a stranger to nightmares. Oddly I have never been much of a dreamer, spending many black nights in a half assed coma due to Sleep Apnea and my own physical shape. Still, when I dream, I dream of fear. This is not to say I have never dreamed. I’ve had many great ideas from dreams and even held intellectual conversations with some of my longest running characters. Still, the bad outweigh the good. I am still exhausted from the lack of sleep last night brought me. I’ve gotten used to the nightmares and they very rarely bother me, yet when you mind starts to blog like it’s the end of the world, those are the nights I spend fading in and out of consciousness. All in all it has occurred to me that I may want to fire Stephen King as my screenplay writer.

While I have yet to read Under the Dome, it seems my mind tried to take me there anyways. I have no intention of sounding like a stereotypical movie narrator but “In a world ravaged by the undead…” This is a reoccurring theme for me. City, Zombies, Apocalypse, all the players were brought together once again as the stars align for yet another zombie apocalypse nightmare. So in this world ravaged by my most common adversary, society seems to have survived the outbreak and has left human and zed to coexist within our urban setting. Many survivors still live comfortably in their homes while the undead inhabit our streets and our shopping malls. Why shopping malls, I have no clue. If they can’t get into buildings then how are they in a mall? I figured that Mr. King was adding a hint of social commentary to my nightmare.

None the less, we knew where they were and we kept them out of any place that was deemed necessary for human survival. So, irony struck me as my real life was juxtaposed with this fantasy. I was in need of new batteries for my electric wheelchair and to use the manual one was too much of a risk for the Missus. So we started on the quest for better personal mobility. Somehow we reclaimed my old van, Vera, from the neighbor I sold it to. I assume they turned so I took it back. Now this is where the dome comes in. we drive from my house to some refuge. The building was a big dome made of bulletproof glass and metal. Underneath the dome was some kind of net or metal mesh as a second line of defense against the starving horde. I was rather unsure of the security as many panes of glass had weathered numerous impacts. Again, as an assumption, I figured this was from a previous raid from the shambling mob. Yet, I was here to make life easier in this apocalypse.

It was decided that I needed to stay for testing in this locked down facility. The Missus had to go home on her own and I was to sleep the night by the edge of the dome. I had no pillow, no blanket, and thus no sleep. This began what I guess was a fugue state as I suddenly became aware at a new location, far away from the safety of the dome. First I made it to the mall in search of a pillow and blanket where a bald and dark skinned gentleman fought off the salivating maws of the mall’s residents as I waddled about. He was kind enough to escort me back to the refuge at which point I was scolded for wandering off. I agreed that it was reckless and explained my extreme dislike of zombies and included the only logical zombie plan I had. I had figured out I was sleeping when I was explaining to someone I had never met how much I hate zombies along with my plan to opt out. I guess Mr King forgot to board up the fourth wall. I don’t know how I escaped the security of the dome but it surely wasn’t the last time I would.

Again I slipped away, seeking the Missus out of worry. I can’t remember where or how long I traveled but I returned to the dome of my free will, unable to find my better half. It didn’t take her very long to rush through the door after me, worried to a panic at my mysterious escape. I found that I had more trouble with comfort without her around. I requested that she stay and the doctors reluctantly agreed. I had finally found my own security in the dome.

I awoke due to my blanket riding down to my waist and I was too cold for comfort. The Missus slept beside me in our own bed, in our own house, and I realized there were no death groans down my street. I was back in reality. I survived another zombie horde and I’m still left with the confusion of how I made it that far. I’m sure Mr. King will eventually write the zombie that flosses with my intestines. Until then, I’ll just endure. Zombies will always be the most occurring role in my nightmares yet Mr. King has started to take a liking to internet memes such as Slenderman. I do try and write myself out of the nightmares he has created for me and I’ve succeeded on the rare occasion. I get the feeling this may anger Mr. King as he normally comes up with something more horrible the following night. I’ll slowly translate his writing into art but H. P. Lovecraft seem to have a hand in my terrors as well, leaving me with only bits and pieces afterword like my brain can no longer cope with what I have experienced. Until the next time the two authors collaborate, I hope to sleep soundly and find a better story in my dreams. If I’m lucky, I’ll get Neil Gaiman in the writer’s chair for that.

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