Zombified

Once a-fucking-gain I dreamt of Zombies.

Ok so maybe that’s not a regular dream subject for you, but it is for me sister.  Or brother, sorry for assuming.  Anyway, I dream of zombies a lot.  Varying situations: ………..(oops sorry I was facebook chatting.  Where was I?  Oh! right.) situations: Last island’s worth of humans where my brother and I are part of the governing body and I have to put him on trial for murder, Oh no! we’re all trapped in a house and they’re coming in, Big party in the woods but no one is listening to get upstairs and start snipin’, you know, the usual.  So last night I was having another dream about zombies and I realized that I’m not really dreaming of zombies.  My obsession with zombies was really my subconscious manifesting a desire for something grander, more important, and ultimately, more realistic.

But before I get to that I have to give some background.  I FUCKING LOVE ZOMBIES.  Not in like, a creepy sexual way, but more as though I’m completely and utterly fascinated by every incarnation of them, be they mainstream and contemporary, or as old as hebrew golems, haitian witch doctors, or norse “mad men”, I love it all.

I even went so far as to write a screenplay about a zombie mockumentary.  I also read books about zombies etc.  Maybe I even plan for the eventual zombie outbreak.  And by maybe I mean I do.  And by plan for I mean I own a machete, am certified in first aid, have a good understanding of practical horticulture and I’m familiar with convenient places to steal supplies on the way to the far north above their deadly reaches.

Back to the point.  I REALIZED something.  Something big.  I am not really obsessed with zombies.  ZOMBIES ARE NOT FUCKING REAL.  And I know this.  The reason I am obsessed with surviving the coming zombie apocalypse is because I know that even though zombies aren’t coming, something is.

I mean think about it, with peak oil, genetic experimentation, climate change, and north america fucking up and pissing off the entire world, something is gonna hit the fan around here real soon.  And zombies are my way of coping with being ready for that.  I can’t actually say to my friends that I stockpile canned food because I wanna live past the first few months of looting and pillaging when suddenly everyone is a refugee and there is no electricity.  But if I jokingly say it’s to get ready for my zombie movie they just laugh it off and call me a freaky weirdo behind my back.

So my brain found a way out.  I know there are no zombies and as a result, preparing for them seems unrealistic and silly, and therefore more easy to digest.

Thanks Brain, you been good to me.  Sorry for killing you slowly all the time.

So maybe the world isn’t really going to end you say.  Maybe I’m exaggerating.  Maybe  the world is headed down a path but it’s not to destruction.  I’m pickin’ up what you’re throwin’ down.

But maybe I’m right.  And maybe you’re wrong.  And maybe when the shit really starts to hit the fan and before panic has really set in you see me book it up north on bikes with a small team carrying all the supplies we will need to create sustainable living, maybe you should hop on your bike, grab a jacket, some boots, and a backpack full of USEFUL shit, and pedal like mad to catch up with us.