Dreaming

I've been meaning to share the other night's dream.

It begins with a banned of drugged zombies at my door. Some of them I know; one is a cartoon character from Family Guy and a few are fellows from my past I had hoped never to see again.

I am not entirely sure what to say.

The zombie-druggies (I think they were really really drugged, not corpses - and one of them happened to be an addict from my past, so ...) pile into my front room and start sabatoging the house with their anti-social zombie etiquette. Some lie down on the couch and pass out. Others start moaning about their horrible, horrible lives to me. I begin playing counselor and offering advice. The zombies do not take the advice but instead decide to murder me. I run around for a while and, when the zombies are probably stumbling around confused somewhere in the house, I pick up the phone and dial 911.

"Hello," burbles the male receptionist on the other end, who sounds remarkably like the head of the theater department I recently auditioned for, "You've reached 911 Services; please state your emergency; if you are experiencing fire, robery, or attempted murder, please stay on the line and we will send an ambulance and police officers your way; if you are experiencing medical trauma, please describe your symptoms and we will send medical assistance in the form of ambulances and physicians; for all other calls, please hang up now."

"Hi, um, my hosue is full of drugged nuts who are chasing me around ... trying to kill me ... I think they might have had a little booze, too," I state calmly into the phone.

"Oh please," says the receptionist. "This sounds like a great plot for a movie, but you're just spewing nonsense, and so -"

"No, I'm serious. They've filled my house!"

"I have better things to do," sniffs the receptionist, and slams down the phone.

The rest of the dream is a blur - I leave the house to do some shopping or something. I come home and the drugged zombies have disappeared, leaving my brothers and mother in their places.

"Hi," I say. "Did someone send police officers to get rid of the zombies?"

"Um, no," replies my mother. Then she hesitates. "But they did send movie executives."