It’s been a rough couple of weeks, and adding to the stew is a rash of anxiety dreams. Most of them are con-anxiety, which is kinda weird because I’m done with cons for the year–I suppose it’s a case of delayed onset. Regardless, a few rough nights have ensued.
Last night I was in a cabin surrounded by zombies. The zombies apparently were part vampire or something, because they could be driven away with religious iconography. I was trying to blockade the large glass doors (who the hell puts swinging glass doors on a cabin!? In zombie country!?) Then I discovered that while they recoiled from crosses and the like, they really succumbed to the spoken word.
I ran through what shreds of Bible verses I knew, the even fewer shreds of the Koran, the Lord’s Prayer, the Disciple’s Creed, the Alcoholics Anonymous credo, did a couple of Hail Marys, and then seized on hymns as the ultimate weapon vs zombies.
Unfortunately, while a Catholic upbringing is the guilt that keeps on giving, my retention of hymns was very limited. I can do the Battle Hymn of the Republic pretty well for a verse or two, but then I get stuck and hum a bit before coming back in on the chorus. I got through a couple “Glory, Glory, Hallelelujah!”s turned around, and discovered that while I’d been guarding the doors, a couple of zombies had gotten through the windows and were menacing my comrades (not one of whom had the decency to be a priest or a rabbi or anything useful.)
“Right!” I yelled. “You all know this one! Everybody sing!”
I have woken myself up yelling before. I have woken myself up moaning before. But I can honestly say that this is the first time that I have ever manage to wake myself out of a sound sleep by belting out the opening bars of Amazing Grace.
Kevin, who was sleeping a few inches away, was also jolted awake and tried to talk me down from my nightmare, but I was already wide awake at that point.
(The sad bit is that I would almost certainly have done it to the tune of the Mickey Mouse club, since Garrison Keillor’s version is the one I remember best…)
The less than utterly helpful elements of my character wish to inquire if you’ve tried reading Huxley before bed.
Hope the rough spots smooth out and the zombies find themselves bound to the embrace of the earth.
why is your idea of a nightmare my idea of a waaay totally awesome dream?
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