It was late in the afternoon and kind of a gloomy day. I headed into the parking garage and started walking up to the roof level where I had left my car. Somewhere on the second or maybe the third floor I encountered one of my professors. She was carrying the a pile of books and papers to take home for the weekend but she was able to quickly find my essay.
"Here. I thought it was well written, but honestly it was far too short. I was very disappointed."
I was feeling rather self-conscious and a little contrite so I didn't say much other than to mumble a thank you and politely wish her a good weekend. She got into her car and as I headed up to the next level I could hear her car start behind me.
There were no other cars in the lot when I reached the top level and headed across to my car parked over in the far corner of the lot. I don't know why I parked so far away, it's not like I'm driving an expensive car or anything, yet here I am on the top level in the far corner.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out the keys unlocked the door while balancing my own stack of books. It was at that precise moment that the wind decided to pick up and snatch my essay and throw it over the parking garage wall and down several stories to the ground below. I stood there forlorn watching it fall and come to land on the grass.
I didn't even bother complaining. Somehow it seemed par for the course based on how this day was going. I threw the rest of my stuff into the car and headed for the stairwell not knowing just how much worse this day was about to get.
I descended two flights of concrete steps when I heard a heard a low moan and suddenly found myself confronted by a shuffling figure in torn clothes, torn skin, and snapping teeth. My hair stood up on end as I realized I had almost walked right into a zombie. I shoved it away and turned around and started racing back up the steps. As I looked up, I realized to my horror that a whole pack of walking dead were coming down the stairs toward me, cutting me off from my only escape. I turned back around to face the one below me only to find that he was now suddenly joined by a number of friends, all reaching out with filthy, bloody hands, each with drooling mouths filled with snapping teeth anxiously looking to take a bite out of me.
I was screwed and I knew it. I started punching and shoving desperately trying to get free, to find an opening to dash through. But it was hopeless. My last memory was of a dead twenty-something guy with no nose opening his mouth to take a bite out of my face while I fought off four other mouths.
As I started to make my way through the fog of sleep back toward consciousness, I was really, really upset with myself. Two thoughts burned in my mind. First, "How could I be so stupid as to be caught without a weapon?!" No crowbar, no shovel, nothing to protect myself from the hoards of undead. But then the second question hit me. Why wasn't I given any warning that this was a dream about zombies?! I thought I was simply having a dream about school! This was totally unfair! Had I known this was a nightmare I could have been better prepared!
I awoke this morning breathing hard and pissed off.