I believe I can fly. From zombies.

I had this zombie dream a couple of nights ago where we realized through discussion that the safest place to head to was probably the local animal shelter. Plenty of walls and fences, probably not a ton of people left inside compared to, say, a JAIL, ample medical supplies, probably even a bunch of food even if it was just pet food. (I could probably whip up a passable Gravy Train risotto if I was hungry enough.) So, not bad. And since Walking Dead style zombieism doesn’t affect animals, it’d be really cool to be around some dogs and cats during the zombie apocalypse.

So we were making our way through some kind of busyish city — not Justin-Bieber-concert busy, more like “summer day in Central Park” busy. We were slowly making our way through the streets with several zombies around and not really having any trouble, when this female zombie in a pink dress suddenly zeroed in on me and started quickly limping toward me and suddenly everything was a panic.

When she was just a few feet away and I was still unsuccessfully zigging and/or zagging, I tried some sort of desperate WWF wrestling drop kick move because what else was I going to do, but it instantly jolted me awake, and back in real life I was actually falling back down onto the bed because I had apparently executed some kind of “worm” style breakdance move and woke up midair.

(In real life, my daughter had done this very move a day or two earlier during a rousing bout of Truth or Dare with a couple friends, so it was probably still kicking around my subconscious and just needed an excuse to show up.)

Not one of the dogs budged even the tiniest bit, and everyone in the room who was snoring was eerily doing it in perfect unison. It took a long time to go back to sleep.