September 15, 2009 by skwishface
The Girl has been teasing me with sleep lately. I think she’s teething. She keeps waking up all fussy and uncomfortable, sometimes with a mild fever. Good times ahead.
Last night, she finally slept all the way through till 4:30am. After a quick bottle, I tucked her back into her crib and crawled back into my own bed to grab another blessed hour of sleep before it was time to wake up for real.
My brain had other ideas.
The second I closed my eyes, I became immersed in the Zombie Apocalypse. It had finally come, you see. The world was ending and zombies were roaming the streets in search of tasty brains. Like ya do.
I have often joked with a friend of mine that, in the event of a Zombie Apocalypse, my family and I would take refuge in his house. He’s a gun enthusiast, see, and his wife is ex-military. Both are excellent marksmen, and their home is fairly rural and thus easy to fortify against the shambling hordes. So what better place to weather the coming darkness? It’s just logic, really.
So in my dream world, the zombies were outside my house and it was time to pack up the kids and get out. We had discovered the secret to destroying the zombies, and we had to get to the safety of my friends redneck fortress so that the secret would not be lost to all humanity.
It was the Candians. They were controlling the zombies. With their minds. We had managed to capture a Canadian and knock him unconscious, and damned if a half-dozen nearby hungry dead didn’t fall over unconscious right along with him.
Of course, we couldn’t just hop online and blog about this revelation, or pick up the phone and call the President. The Canadians and their Zombie Army had destroyed the local power plant. Naturally.
Anyway, there we were in my house, the Husband and I, each with one of our children slung on a hip, frantically cramming supplies into plasting shopping bags. Diapers, wipes, canned food, toilet paper. For some reason all of these supplies are stored upstairs. Just as we’re about to head down the stairs and make good our escape, the Canadian comes around and points menacingly at us. The zombies under his mental control start boiling up the stairs like a horrible tide of death. We are trapped in the upper floor of our house with our screaming, defenseless children and an evil psychic Canadian.
So I decide to wake up. I don’t like this dream. I have less than an hour before I have to get out of bed and ready for work, and I would really like to spend that time with a more pleasant dream.
I fall back asleep. Zombies are coming up the stairs.
Drat! I wake back up, grumble, roll over, fall back asleep.
Zombies. Canadian. Dammit!
It was like every time I woke up, I was just pausing the movie in my brain. And it was the only movie I could watch. I didn’t have a no-movie option. Eventually I gave up on the whole idea of sleep and just laid there, not quite awake and grumpy as hell.
Damn Canadian zombies.