I've been having really vivid dreams lately.
And yes, as the title suggests, they are related to zombies.

Sure it sounds like a ball of fun, like a movie, killing and crushing zombie skulls all night long in my dreams. I love zombie games like Left4Dead and Resident Evil. You get to run around and collect guns and blow zombie's heads off. It's fun. I love watching The Walking Dead and how new survival skills come into play to survive the zombie apocalypse.

However, it's one thing to be enjoying all that gore and fun in a game or show, because you know zombies are not real. But in my dreams, they're very real indeed. When you dream about the whole zombie situation, you are not aware that you're in a dream. And living in a zombie infested world? It becomes all too real, it's a matter of life and death. You feel scared, you feel insecure and you feel helpless. Not your imagination, but for real.

Last night I had one of those dreams.


I was barricaded in my own home, with my parents and some other people that I don't recognize but are nice and seem to be helping us out. It was a man and his wife, with two sons and a daughter I think. Everything in my home looked like how it originally is, except that I have a swimming pool in my living room. It was a huge pool with blue tiles taking up the space in front of the TV. We had no couches, just a pool with built-in steps leading downwards that we can sit on while in the water. The pool seemed to go downwards real deep, but I don't think I'd like to find out as the blue tiles start to turn darker the deeper it goes.

All I remembered was I was swimming around the pool with my siblings and some of the stranger's kids. Suddenly, the youngest boy in his family started thrashing about in the water. Just before we could get to him, his body stilled, indicating that he had drowned. He was near the deep end of the pool, right in front of the TV. My brother, Brandon wanted to swim towards him and drag him out, but somehow I had an instinct about something being not right and pulled Brandon back. The kid's body floated to the surface of the pool and was still. His father, seeing that none of us were willing to swim out to his son, decided to wade out and get him, even though he can't swim. (I don't know how deep the pool is but it seemed to be really deep)

Me and my siblings dashed out of the pool to get dried and someone decided to pull the plug to drain out all the water. As the man reached his son's still body, the water levels began to decrease. As it decreased, he panicked, threw his son's body over his shoulder and frantically tried to swim back to us. That's when I saw his son's head lifting, and moved itself against his father's neck. His father screamed, stopped swimming and started thrashing around in the water as the pool started to turn red.

At that point, the rest of us on land started screaming. His wife and two kids wanted to dash in to help, but my mom ushered them to head to one of the rooms upstairs. I wanted to go with them because I started freaking out when I saw all that blood and the gurgling sounds coming from both the boy and the man, but my dad made me stay; he thrusted a sharp-ended metal stick into my hands.

At this point, as the pool water recedes, I realized that it's not exactly a pool, but sort of an underground subway entry. As the bleeding man and his son reached the bottom of the stairs, the water started draining rapidly and then there was no more water to be seen. Just the man and his son at the bottom of the stairs, sitting right in front of a metal gate - the collapsible kind that can be pushed open to the sides. But right now, it stood shut and to my relief, locked together by a massive deadbolt. Nothing but blackness behind it.

Knowing what must be done, my dad, gun in one hand and crowbar in the other lead the way down the steps. Brandon followed suit, two crowbars in hand. My sister, Tricia nudged me and headed down after them, gripping the same sharp-ended metal stick I had also been given. I counted the steps. It was at least 40 steps before we stopped, just a few steps away from the body of the man, and his son who's still eating away at his flesh. It was disgusting and despite this being a dream, I smelled the disgusting stench of blood.

Just like in the movies, the boy lifted up his zombie face at us and started to make a gurgling-hiss sort of noise, with read stuff pouring out of his mouth, while still chewing on a mouthful of meat. It was so gross and the smell of blood was so real, I gagged. Maybe it was the sound of my gagging (or maybe he was offended by it, or perhaps because this is my dream and I am the star of it) the little zombie boy decided to stand up and run towards me, even though I'm standing much further back.

You would think that you'd enjoy this moment and whack the living shit out of this little zombie boy, and I had imagined doing all that, especially in those zombie games. I always imagine beating a zombie with a stick or shooting them in the head. I was so ready to just whack a zombie. But in my dreams, I freaked out and I really felt scared for my life but I couldn't move. I was helpless. I think my dad expected me to be the tough one and take a whack at the zombie, so he didn't bother to move when the zombie was running towards me. But now that he saw how scared I was and how close the zombie was to me (like inches away!) he lifted his gun and shot that boy clean in the head. The sound was so loud, I covered my ears and ran to the top of the staircase to where my mom was waiting.

I sat there, at the top of the stairs and just kept my ears shut as my mom patted me on the back and I watch my siblings help my dad take care of the man's body, in case he wakes up as a zombie too. I looked out of the window and saw that some of the zombies that were wandering outside our gate had stopped moving around, and were focusing their attention towards my house; towards where the gunshot sound came from. A minute passed but it felt like an hour as I stared at the zombies staring at my house. I was so scared I couldn't even tell anyone what I've noticed.

Then, one of the zombies decided to take a step closer to my gate, probably to investigate even though my gate's secured by a deadbolt and chains. Then another decided to follow. And another.
And another. Not all of them though, just the ones who are near enough. The ones who were further away continued walking aimlessly in another direction. But there were easily 20 zombies who were now outside my house, drawing in attention from other passer-by zombies.

My mother must have noticed this because she then decided to get up and discreetly draw all the curtains shut, slowly. Then, from 40 steps below, my sister screamed.

I ran to get the lights (but the dimmer lights) and saw that the blackness behind the metal gate is now full of zombies, pushing their decaying hands through the gate's slots. My sister was trying to kick off a hand that was grabbing onto her ankles, probably why she screamed. I saw my dad chop the zombie arm away from my sister, and led her and Brandon up the stairs to meet us.

Peeking from behind the curtains, my mom reported that Tricia's scream had given our position away, and that the zombies outside our house had heard it and were trying to get in. We can't leave the house and with a gate & basement full of zombies, we can't exactly make an escape.

So we decided to overturn a table and lean it against the iron-gate at the bottom of the stairs. If the zombies do break free, at least the sound of the table falling onto the ground would give us a warning. We also barricaded the entire opening of the pool with a fishing net. It wouldn't do much except to hold off the zombies for a few extra minutes, seconds maybe.

Then we heard our front gate collapse. A whole throng of zombies rushed in and started pounding on our door and windows. Lucky for us, back when my grandfather built this house, he decided to install some square-cut metal bars on every door and window. To protect the house form robbers, mainly. I don't think he knew about the existence of zombies then. My dad got us all to pick up our weapons, open the doors and windows, and start stabbing these zombies in the head with our sticks (no guns). It was a disgusting bloodbath. I gagged, but I did what I had to do. And I didn't enjoy it.

I was scared, shaking and drenched in blood. It wasn't even hot blood because these zombies were decaying for days and months by then. It was cold, smelly and sticky blood. We stabbed and we stabbed each and every zombie that walked into our front gate. Until there was none left. None in the neighborhood within our sights, that is. My dad said we then have a very short period of time to start moving all the zombie bodies out onto the road, to keep the stink away from our home.

That is probably even scarier than killing those zombies - because we are leaving our home open and unlocked as we roll all the bodies out and further away from our home, having a higher risk of a mob of zombies invading. Or worse, watching either my dad or Brandon get bitten and eaten.

We gathered all the zombie bodies in front of our home. My mom, armed with a gun kept watch with me and Tricia while my dad and Brandon carried about 6-7 bodies at a time on a small wheelbarrow, and dump the bodies about a kilometer away, behind an old building.

Things were going okay, no zombies in sight. My dad and Brandon managed to wheel about 4 rounds of corpses. At the fifth round, we heard a very inhuman screeching sound. It came from behind the building they were at. I was so scared, I nearly ran back into the house. But I forced myself to stay there. I need to know that both of them are okay. Again we heard the screeching sound. My mom handed me the gun and told me to stand guard while she checked it out. I protested but she made me take the gun and stay guard with Tricia.

I watched her run and disappear behind that damned building. I was getting very restless and antsy. I don't like being so exposed. I want them to get back soon. I looked at Tricia and she looked at me. Our faces say it all, we're not gonna last any longer. Then, we heard a scream. My mom. I just lost it and ran towards the building.

And then I woke up. Yeah, I know. What a sucky way to end the dream.



It was so scary and it felt so real though. I woke up feeling scared and sweating. I checked under the bed just in case. I recovered after about 10 minutes from the moment I woke up.

Zombies are some scary bullshit. I can't wait for The Walking Dead season 4.