Music:Help, I don't know the artist (Hatfield?) - I Hate My Sister
Sweet ZOMBI Jesus!
I had a cool dream last night where zombies overran my school. The only way to stop someone from being a zombie was to hit them right at the point on the head (the sinciput?) where Hindis put the dot... piercing right to the braaaaaiiiinnnssss. I don't know if the point was to lobotomize or to sever the corpus collosum, but it was a wooden stake type-dealie. So naturally, being in an academic building (Uris Hall; home of the Psych dept.) we used pencils. But eventually, we started running low, and so were allowed to use mechanical pencils, and by extension, since they're both plastic, pens. It really sucked, because if you've ever tried it, you know that pencils don't penetrate skull very well, especially not when thrown (though the fact that the one spot you were supposed to hit was soft helped, even though that spot was about a pencil-and-a-half's diameter). It's very hard to get within skull-stabbing distance of zombies when their slobber can turn you into a brain-jabbering zombified monster.
But I was the best at it. Oh, yes.
Not that that's saying a lot. I missed a lot, and when I hit, it wasn't a kill, and it wasn't always clean (I actually benefitted from one miss— I learned that you could go through their soft eyes, rather than piercing bone... a big help). It was a pretty graphic dream, yes, but not gross. And the whole me as the hero-though-I'm-human was part of the dream's charm. I have to remember this dream if I ever do another screenplay; how to write a hero that's human and misses and is lucky, sure, but is just a normal guy (but not a bumbler!). So was my arch-nemesis, the smartest of the zombies, a decent general. Yes, general. Part of the dream was navigating the maze-like interior of Uris, and moving your 'troops' and surrounding people and things like that. There were a lot of them, and fewer and fewer of us, continually, and then they started throwing the pencils back (his real stroke of genius), so that we sometimes couldn't tell who was a zombi until they got close enough to munch our braaaaaiiiinnnnsss. And to top it off, he was some stupid prof (up until his braaaaaiiiiinnnnssss had been slurped out of his skull like so much Neapolitan Cortex). Not any prof in particular, just an annoying one, probably very by-the-book in his waking days. But his aim with a pencil was DAMN good.
Fortunately, I had Hiro-Protagonist-style parrying ability. I didn't even see half the things I blocked. Well, my MT action-perception system did. Hooray for my many magnocells and rods! We are talking about batting away pencils with zombi slobber on them (i.e., they couldn't touch my skin) using only the pencil in my hand while running, jumping over bodies. Pencils spin when hit, not usually in the way you expect, so it wasn't easy. Why can I calculate instantaneously cylindrical moments of inertia in my sleep? Because I was. My dreams have the best physical modelling of any game I've ever played, that much is for sure.
The only reason I woke up is because we were at a stalemate and I was getting frustrated. I hate you, real world. Hate. You.