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Tuesday April 10th 2012, 11:39 am

Our car has broken down and we’re in a quiet panic. It’s dusk, but somehow there is enough ambient light from somewhere that we can see the paved road to the side of our beat up and damaged vehicle. The warm gold light dimly reflecting off of the cracking black tar and gravel. We’re sitting in the car, unmoving, off the side of the road slightly. Looking out through grimy spotted windows, that we’re insistent to keep rolled up, watching a herd of fifty to a hundred undead marching past. They drone on in subtle moans and gnashing teeth, their feet scraping the pavement as they sort of slide them along staggeringly. I feel a twinge of sadness as I note some of them individually. Picturing the lives lost, that have now gone to this horrid existence. One, a young woman, wearing just a simple white nightgown, now sullied into a murky gray. Her straggling hair, long and dark. Her face still somehow manages to show she had been youthful. I’m so saddened by her.

Then I notice a small child, I think it’s a boy, but hard to tell, he’s stepping on to ride a bicycle. But something about him seems different than the others, more direct of purpose, more alive. Thats when it becomes apparent that we’re in this car with other people as one of them calls out, proudly saying the boy is their son. That he and the other kids have figured out a way to move among the walking corpses unseen. They point out that the boy is wearing a disguise. I look more intently as he gets ready to kick off on his bike. He’s got on black clothing that appears to be thick but wrapped around his body. He also wears a crudely made mask of what I think is gauze and paper mache, with holes carved for eyes and mouth. He’s also got a big floppy hat on. Red paint encircles the mask openings a bit cartoonishly, like a twisted clown. For some unfathomable reason this get up is making it so the horde of human flesh eaters don’t pay attention to him at all.

Time shifts. We’re holed up in some convenience store, packages of junk food litter the floors. The sun is bright outside, like summer. We’ve been living in here for awhile now. Our group is roughly twenty people, and the relationships are precarious. Everyone’s got their eye on everyone else, on guard for changes. Some of us have been changing into those vile things for unknown reasons, like an illness, a virus spreading. There is a dog with us, of some mixed breed, large and the color of foamy root beer, and a sweet temperament. We’re all very ragged, and tired. I feel itchy and scummy. How wonderful a simple shower would be.

Time shifts again. I find myself waking up to someone screaming. The light is on overhead and the door is closed. I’m in a very cramped maintenance closet, full of boxed supplies. There is shiny metal grated shelving to either side of me, with white cloths, stacks of paper towels, numerous other items. To one corner there is an old moldy mop and bucket. The floor has a dirty worn out backpack, frumpy blankets tossed, my bedding. I’m jolted to attention by another scream. The sound of an insane screeching banshee to my ears. Its much louder now, then suddenly a forceful blow to the other side of the door. More crazy wailing, incoherent, nothing discernible, just wild vocal abandon. The door slams from another blow, then pounding, rapid forceful pounding. The door creaks from the tension against it. My heart is in my throat, pounding in unison with every slam against the door. Suddenly the door rips open, splintering the jamb. And barreling at me is some screeching long haired large woman, her blue eyes wide and lost, and covered completely in dripping bright crimson red.

Sleeping Visions From Another Dimension 3
April 10th 2012

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