Nightmare

Today's prompt from The Daily Post is:

Describe the last nightmare you remember having. What do you think it meant?

I'm not the type of person who remembers dreams. But nightmares? I remember a few of them, especially if they're enough to scare me awake. You know what it's like: heart racing in fear, panting in fright and sweating so much you have to change shirts.

Surprisingly, my last nightmare didn't scare me a lot. I say surprisingly because I'm a big chicken and jump at the smallest things. But I remembered it because while I was dreaming, I thought, "Wow, this would make such a cool book!"

It was similar to a zombie apocalypse. No, don't roll your eyes! It was good, I swear!

My friends and I lived in a Big Brother-esque society that sheltered people from zombies. These zombies looked a lot like the Darkseekers in the movie I am Legend and everyone lived in fear of them.

One day, when we were mucking around in some public toilets (I believe we were vandalising) we stumbled across a strange mechanism built into the walls and the roof. We investigated further and pulled it apart only to find it was covered in blood.

The blade on the roof swung down to chop off the heads of unsuspecting victims. The head would fly into a chute in the wall and somehow, in the way that only happens in dreams, my friends and I figured out that our government was creating these zombies to control society and used this very contraption to kill those who found out.

This family would be ideal zombies.

We devised a plan to trek to the capital and destroy their zombie-making equipment. A large group joined us on our journey. Old friends and people I haven't seen in years made guest appearances in my nightmare.

On our way, we ran into groups of zombies but we were always safe because these weird little creatures, which looked like sea slugs with fluorescent red dots and green stripes, always appeared, like a sign that the zombies were approaching.

At one point, we were fighting zombies in a handbag store and I was standing on a shelf and chucking handbags at zombie's heads while shoving two children (I don't know where they came from) behind me.

The next thing I knew, my eyes were creaking open and I rolled over to grab a notebook and a pen, which I keep on my nightstand for these purposes, and scribbled every detail down before I forgot. My brain kept saying, "It's fine, Silvia, you'll remember. Just grab another hour of sleep."

But I've been tricked by my scumbag brain before and knew better than to trust it.

End result: a fantastic plot bunny I intend to work on!