I had a dream.
I find myself in Miami, my family has relocated there. My mother has a sprawling mansion, where my sibling gets her own mini suite with bathrooms galore. She can paint it and decorate how she wants. I get the shitty single room and have to share bathrooms with someone. Never knew who.
I want the Suite under the house. That opens up right on curvy pathway up to the front door. It was apparently the old suite Chris brown used to stay in. I argue with my mother and pout to my father in his own house. Turns out I get it, although I never heard "Its yours." just my mother going, "You're getting good at manipulating him."
I'm in a hotel. One of the upper floors overlooking the ocean. A tidal wave crashes, but its coming at us from both sides. Paris Hilton is there. I wrap an arm around her and someone else. We go under and we float. We drift, I think we're going to die and yet at this point the panic is gone and I'm just holding on to Paris Hilton.
We emerge. We're all dry. We're underground and trapped. Think Dawn of the dead and any other zombie movie where everyone healthy is trapped somewhere and the dead are off elsewhere.
We realize what has happened. It was a tidal wave, but this group of survivors is trapped. Underground. It is in a hotel. But the hotel is cut off from all outside sources minus Walkie talkies that appeared for no reason.
Sasha, the founder of Evil Beet, is there. I apparently now work for her. She joins me. We suck on q-tips with "Blood" but its the antidote so we don't get sick. We breathe into a machine, I am sick when I breathe through my nose. Not sick when through my mouth.
I and one other girl are infected. I protested. Why was one passage of air infected but the other not? I started breathing through my mouth. And then I was given a mask.
Fast forward to another room. They wonder how long it will take for us to lose control and become like them. Someone asks what we were going to do when we get out. The other girl chooses optimism. Talking about something.
I choose another tactic. "Well I was going to get married. Had my dress and everything. I guess it'll be the skinniest I've ever been and they'll still make me the center of attention." I clearly didn't want to die.
Fast forward to the night, we're getting ready for bed. Merry, a lady who I work with is there. (real name Merry, born on Xmas Eve.) Turns out she is the other one dying with me. (In Real life she's a survivor of Breast Cancer.) Her husband is there. He's from liverpool. She's tucked into bed with her blue flannel sheets, the ones with bright white snowflakes on them. They match her pjs.
I sit talking to her husband. I leave and go to the room I am sharing with Sasha. She hears that the monsters are moving towards us and we gather our things and start warning people.
For some reason Paris Hilton never appeared in the dream again. But Sasha and I set out to do something. The walkie went all nuts and we couldn't get it to go quiet. We were terrified the Monsters were coming. She told me to take Evil Beet and be the head writer. (Sorry Wendie, I am now your boss it appears in Miami.)
She sacrifices herself, and the monsters find us. We're now in a parking structure and the Undead have cars. Really nice cars.
I jump around from car to car, apparently I become Nastia from the Olympics. (Its like 11pm I just woke up. My spelling and names are probably wrong. I'm sorry.)
And then some voices are shouting, "Get out of the way!" And they're chanting. And chanting. And then some of the survivors start crashing the cars and throwing them around. I wake up to this thought, "Fucking Transformers!"