Crawling Zombies

So I keep having these zombie dreams. I don't know what's wrong with me (not that I'm complaining-I love zombies), but it's pretty interesting when I wake up in the morning and realize my mind somehow managed to incorporate my favorite monsters into my dreams, or shall I say nightmares?

This was a strange dream too. I woke up in the morning for school. I must've been 13 or 14 years old. I was in the kitchen, looking for something to eat, and I ended up hitting my leg pretty bad on the counter. My skin tore, but no blood came from the wound. I then peeked into the main bathroom and saw the bedroom door closed, which made me realize my step dad was still home. He had yet to go to work, and I wasn't really sure why. After that, I was in the kitchen again, looking at these notes my mom left my step dad for his lunch for work (even though he was still home). I ended up dropping a glass on the floor, it shattered, and I fell on top and cut my leg a second time. This time, my skin tore completely off, leaving a gaping hole that exposed bone, yet I did not bleed. My mom was awake at that point and poured vodka on it to clean it. I was trying my best to avoid her because she was an alcoholic in real life, though she seemed sober in my dream, and I just didn't want to be around her, but she insisted on cleaning the wound, and then she left for work.

The next thing I knew, my neighbor and good friend was walking over with her school books in hand. She was wearing a green polo shirt like the shirts I have to wear for my job in real life, which I thought was odd, but she was always into that drab, boring kind of clothing. She came to the door, but right before I opened it, I looked back into the house and saw a very skinny, skeleton zombie crawling across the floor. I had no idea how the zombie got in the house, and I briefly wondered about it, but I didn't really care. It was coming right for me, yet I wasn't scared of it. I looked back once more, noticing the little fuzz on its head, the green tint to its skin, and how skinny it seemed, like it had been a zombie way too long. Even after taking in the horrible sight, I still wasn't bothered by it, so I opened the door and talked to my friend for a minute, telling her that I wasn't going to school. I don't think I gave her a reason as to why, but before my mom left for work, she left a note on the counter for my step dad saying something along the lines of, "our super girl is feeling much better today, but she's staying home from school." (I really don't know what that was about.) My friend left. I watched her walked around the horse pasture, back down her driveway, and stop by the road to wait for the bus.

I'd almost forgotten about the zombie crawling across my kitchen floor and down the hallway, and when I turned around, the thing was right behind me, trying to get out of the door. I opened the door wide and watched it crawl by, and when it was half way out, I started to nudge it in the side and legs to get it outside. It didn't try to bite me or eat me, but I did have a moment of panic when I kicked its foot out and its toenail scraped against my skin. I thought for sure I was going to turn zombie, but I didn't, and I watched the zombie crawl away. After that, I realized I had to go outside and take care of my mare in the barn. I stepped onto the deck and looked to the barn, but I couldn't leave. The barn was fine, but the field behind the barn had five or six crawling zombies, and they were all trying to get into my boyfriend's house next door. On the opposite side of the barn, I saw at least two more zombies, and I figured my mare could wait to be fed a later time. I surely wasn't going to go outside and open the barn door so she could get eaten up by zombies or me bitten by one.

That was pretty much where the dream ended, and as soon as I opened my eyes this morning, I thought to myself, "How could you neglect your mare and her morning meal like that?" Zombies were crawling in and out of my house, and all I cared about was my horse. Typical me. :)

And as for the aspect of hitting my leg and not bleeding, I figured it had something to do with everyone eventually turning zombie. Maybe after time, after constantly stubbing toes on furniture, bumping hips on counter corners, smashing fingers in doors, the human body would just wear out and die rather than heal itself, and in death, that body would turn zombie and "live" again.