I find myself in the middle of a pitched battle. It’s one on one, hand to hand and I am totally in blood red berserker mode. I see an opportunity. I lunge and sink my teeth into the slick unguarded trapezius muscle that vulnerable before me. My jaws extend wide and latch down on the salty flesh, the sensation of my teeth rending tissue is indescribably glorious. The copper red spray of blood, and the hot human salt of the skin fill my entire mouth with joy. I revel in the agony I cause.
With the furious flavor of flesh still lingering in my mouth, I wake up. It’s one of those times when it feels like you are gaining consciousness and pushing up out of four or five feet of water.
I am a little nonplussed. This is not the first time I’ve woken up from a dream of gore drenched violence and been unable to call it a nightmare. In fact, I have way more anxiety when I dream of being barefoot in public. I’m going to blame this one on all the zombie fiction. Yeah, that’s the ticket….zombie fiction…