This was the gist of last night’s dream. I’ve been awake for 40 minutes now, and the details are fading even as I type this. Suffice to say, I WAS A FLYING ZOMBIE. As I was soaring way up high I noticed two bridges, and I remember the vague notion that I was in Vancouver.

Survivors never seem to know what a zombie is in zombie movies, y’know? They usually wake up from some sort of coma to a world in ruin, and when they come across their first stumbling corpse with its arms outstretched, their reaction is always “Ahh! What is this?! What is happening?!” to which, as a viewer, I always think “it’s a ZOMBIE, idiot. Haven’t you seen Dawn of the Dead?”

Anyway, flying zombies would be terrifying. Unless I was a flying zombie. Then it might be kind of fun. Look out Vancouver.