(I had this dream in December 2011).
My previous zombie apocalypse dream took place in the 1850’s and centered on me as a single, working mother with my own chocolate shop (see earlier post). A more recent zombie apocalypse dream took place during present times in a dark, older house that was very large, like a mansion, but had been converted into a research facility. There were three stories and a large attic; the first floor also had a large greenhouse that was being used for various kinds of scientific research. Most of the people occupying the house were scientists or researchers who I didn’t know well; except for Tonya, who is a very good friend and colleague. She was at the house collaborating on research and escaping from the infectious plague that had ravaged her neighborhood. Tonya’s son was with his grandparents, but her boyfriend (I’ll call him Billy B.) was with us. The plague that I’m referring to was a highly contagious bacterial infection that was ravaging the human population. Symptoms included rotting flesh (similar to Necrotizing fasciitis), a greenish/gray color to the skin, erratic movements and violent, rage-filled tendencies (like those associated with rabies). The bacteria also attacked the esophageal lining which caused a rasping, gurgling noise by those infected. To put it bluntly, you became a zombie. There was no effective cure, but doctors could slow the progress of the disease in some patients. It had become an epidemic.
There was a level of commotion in the house as most of us were wrapping up our research and getting ready to leave. Each person was deciding whether to go home or head somewhere else depending on how badly their area had been affected by the disease. I, on the other hand, was very distracted with keeping a particular plant alive. For some reason, it was important to keep the specimen healthy, but it kept getting infected. The plant itself, and the soil it was in, oozed with a bacterial slime. I kept cleaning it and transferring it to new, fresh soil, but the infection would return. I made my way to the attic to find a clean container in which to transport the specimen, but when I got there I found Tonya frantically unpacking her belongings in a small, back room. She was disheveled and in a state of panic. I asked her what was wrong and she told me that she was going to hide out in the attic to stay safe and away from the epidemic. She was going to get her dog and cat, but leave her son with her parents to keep him safe. I didn’t understand her urgency, or why she had made those decisions, but I didn’t question her. I went back downstairs to find a container and figure out what I was going to do. As I was half way down the steps, I heard a gurgling, sputtering noise coming from the attic. I walked back up and peeked around the corner. Billy was standing over Tonya, obviously infected. He was not to the point of dementia, but was nearing the final stages of a full-blown infection. When I looked again at Tonya, she had taken on the greenish/gray appearance of the initial phases of infection. I froze and my heart stopped. Billy was trying to convince Tonya to seek medical help, but she told him there was no point. There was no cure. “We need to kill ourselves now, while we can… while we still have the capacity to reason. I don’t want to infect anyone else and I don’t want my son to see me like this!” I couldn’t move; I couldn’t breathe. Billy’s eyes became dark and as he tried to argue with Tonya further, all that came out were incomprehensible sputters and gurgles. He bent down and put his black fingers around Tonya’s neck… I gasped! Both heads turned towards me and Tonya’s eyes were dark. She gurgled something incomprehensible…
… And then I woke up.