Nice Ta Eat Ya
Dreamed I was living in a semi-wasteland that was bring increasingly populated with undead people. It started off with just a few. They didn't seem to be zombies in the contagious sense - they were just kind of going around doing person things. At least, I never saw someone going from living to undead. We had conversations and did whatever we were doing, I guess. But somehow more and more people ended up in that condition - maybe it was happening to anyone who happened to die; maybe they felt drawn to the place, traveling for miles to get there. Maybe they really were taking over other people, and it was just so slow and invisible I couldn't tell.
Eventually a bustling community was formed by these undead. I was one of the few living people still there, and I was feeling more and more out of place. things were always tinged by the uncertainty that they wouldn't get irritated and try to kill us. On the one hand, each undead had a day at some point where they were super powerful, and this came in handy when my car axle was bent at a crazy angle (probably by another superstrong undead; lets be honest. but they never said that aloud). On the other hand, a definite undead culture was starting to form, and the differences between us became more and more apparent. There were some things I could do that they couldn't, lest their flesh just kind of fall off: swimming, dancing, etc. Likewise, they didn't need to eat or sleep or fuck. Rituals began to form around people's days of strength. Someone accused me of having stolen what looked like a playstation a while back. Living children tried to play some of the games the dead children did, and we had to tell them that some of those games were too dangerous for them. "You can't jump off of all these stairs headfirst; try jumping off just one or two." They didn't get it, and some of them inevitably died. I don't recall their fate past that point. The undead didn't care about any of that; they had their own children to shepherd around.
I began to get worried. I thought maybe this is what happens to the undead. They're chill for a while but the more and more time that goes by, the more resentful they are of the living. Larger and larger the community swelled, and petty arguments broke out often. I was still not entirely convinced that they weren't say, killing people and wearing their bodies. Or something. I felt that my days there were numbered. I would have tried to get out right away, but I thought to myself "I'm leaving in like a day to visit Skot. Leaving early would just attract attention I don't need." So I resolved to stick it out. But it was creepy, and I wasn't certain I'd made the right choice.
Eventually a bustling community was formed by these undead. I was one of the few living people still there, and I was feeling more and more out of place. things were always tinged by the uncertainty that they wouldn't get irritated and try to kill us. On the one hand, each undead had a day at some point where they were super powerful, and this came in handy when my car axle was bent at a crazy angle (probably by another superstrong undead; lets be honest. but they never said that aloud). On the other hand, a definite undead culture was starting to form, and the differences between us became more and more apparent. There were some things I could do that they couldn't, lest their flesh just kind of fall off: swimming, dancing, etc. Likewise, they didn't need to eat or sleep or fuck. Rituals began to form around people's days of strength. Someone accused me of having stolen what looked like a playstation a while back. Living children tried to play some of the games the dead children did, and we had to tell them that some of those games were too dangerous for them. "You can't jump off of all these stairs headfirst; try jumping off just one or two." They didn't get it, and some of them inevitably died. I don't recall their fate past that point. The undead didn't care about any of that; they had their own children to shepherd around.
I began to get worried. I thought maybe this is what happens to the undead. They're chill for a while but the more and more time that goes by, the more resentful they are of the living. Larger and larger the community swelled, and petty arguments broke out often. I was still not entirely convinced that they weren't say, killing people and wearing their bodies. Or something. I felt that my days there were numbered. I would have tried to get out right away, but I thought to myself "I'm leaving in like a day to visit Skot. Leaving early would just attract attention I don't need." So I resolved to stick it out. But it was creepy, and I wasn't certain I'd made the right choice.