Perhaps it's just my pessimistic nature, or maybe it has something to do with growing up under the leadership of an Apocalyptic Reagan, but for some reason I've always held this belief that I would be alive to see the end of our civilization - and unfortunately, survive it. My dreams this weekend have done nothing to quell those instincts.
I can vividly remember my first Post-Apocalyptic dream from my early adolescence. A tattered movie screen hung in front of a rust desert that was once a city, where charred people fought over the last scrap of food. My attempt to write that dream down was one of my first determined efforts at writing. In fact, images from that dream have shown up in several of my books.
Many other such dreams have followed since that first one. I average a few end-of-the-world dreams per year. However, in the last month or so, I'm setting a new record. I've had at least five, and two this very weekend (on Good Friday and Easter Sunday, no less...hmmmm). These recent dreams have been a little different in that they are clearly of the Zombie Apocalypse variety of fighting off the mindless hoards. Though I fully admit some in the past year have had clear indicators such as hours spent playing a certain video game or watching a certain movie, this weekend had no such direct indicators.
Standard dream interpretation suggests these type of dreams are anxiety driven by a fear of a major shift in you beliefs or situation. But mine are a little different in that I'm always sure of survival. I prefer to stick with idea of them being prophetic. In which case, it may be time to stock up on the canned goods and weapons. The zombies are coming folks. In fact, they may already be among us (ummm...shameless Zombies Blondes plug, because even in end times I need to sell some books).
Oh, a little tidbit from the last dream...for some reason, Beverly Hills and Haight District will be spared. So pack your bags folks, the party is in California!