The Thirty Minute Blogger

Exploring Books and the Writer's Life, Faith and Works, Culture and Pop Culture, Space Science and Science Fiction, Technology and Nostalgia, Parenting and Childhood, Health: Physical and Emotional ... All Under the Iron Hands of the Clock and That 30 Minute Deadline

Friday, February 25, 2011

Are We a Zombie Nation? Is This Prophetic Dreaming?

BRAINS! Brains?
The other night I was reading Dean Koontz's newest spine tingler, What the Night Knows. It's funny how a spooky tale can impact upon the often dormant primitive lurking in the shadowy recesses of your brain. Twice in the night I left my chair to search out the source of some suspicious noise around the house before realizing the sounds were innocent and it was the book that was creating the suspicions. So, to sleep, and the strangeness of the story followed me down into dreams.

In the dream I was among a small band of survivors huddled together in the midst of the zombie overthrow of humanity. As in every movie or TV show on the subject, our numbers were dwindling. Then, the unexpected ... I had an inspiration. Shouting to get the horde's attention, I looked over their corpsified heads, pointed eagerly, and declared with great enthusiasm, "Look, over there, brains! Lots and lots of brains! It's a brains buffet." Much to my surprise, zombie heads swiveled eagerly in the pointed directions and the horde shambled off in that direction. In a while, they returned disappointed, back to the real source of brains. So, now all of us survivors pointed in another direction and simplified the declaration. We just shrieked, "Brains!!!" Again, the zombies were duped and headed off eagerly looking for a meal. After a while, we survivors found it was great fun deciding where to send the attentive walking dead when next the returned. Would we send them lemming-like over cliffs, through thorny forest undergrowth, pied-piper-like into raging river torrents? We, the few, were sending the many off on wild goose chases of our devising, adventures in which the zombies gain nothing and may be destroyed, while we the malicious puppet-masters sat back and laughed at their undead antics.

Waking, at first I tried to shake these weird, even ludicrous images from my own sleep addled brains. Within seconds, however, I jolted fully awake as I realized this dream had a parable-like quality to it. It had a single point. In this waking world, there are those demagogues who send us regular folk scurrying off in all directions with their latest pronouncements and proclamations. Like the survivors in the dream, they must take great amusement at our antics as we shamble from one place to another, never finding the promised buffet ... or riches ... or the "good life" whatever that might be. Come zombie horde, awake, return to full humanity and stop taking directions from malicious puppet masters who point here and there for their own purposes, purposes that have little to do with our common good.

Prophetic dream? You decide. 

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