pwndcake

I dreamed last night of a plague. A zombie plague, spread by demon caterpillars with human faces. It ran like a series of commercials, each with it's own theme and its own color. The first was blue. A group of 8th graders somewhere in Orange County walking home from school under a blue sky, wearing blue jeans, with blue backpacks. They talked and laughed and played like middle school kids do walking home. They stopped to run around in the grass, and then one of them found himself face to face with a screaming caterpillar that bit him on the chest. Cut to next scene.

This one was grey. 19 year old kid working in an mechanics shop somewhere near San Francisco. Grey sky, grey concrete walls, grey oil stained clothes underneath a grey car. He starts walking home along a grey street, in a grey town. Two of his friends are up ahead smoking a joint. He stops to talk to them near a colorless tree planted in a patch of grass surrounded by more concrete. A caterpillar drops on his friends shoulder. No one has time to say anything before they are all covered by screaming caterpillars. Cut to next scene.

The next was black. I'm in this one as more of a participant and less as an observer. I'm young, maybe 15. I'm going home. To get there i go through a beauty parlor, out the back door, through a buddhist monastary, across a field into a project building. Shadows are everywhere. Underneath the chairs of the beauty parlor, around the shrines of the monks, in the corners of the dimly lit apartment I share with 4 other people. There is news of something dreadful happening. I hear it in the gossip as I pass by the beauticians, and in the whispers of the monks. It's on the tv when I get to my apartment. There were dead rats in the field on my way here, but I remember seeing mice on my way. Mice with red eyes. end sequence

From here the dream becomes more cohesive. The monks in the temple have discovered their prayers can ward off the plague bringers. It's more than just the caterpillars now. Bites from mosquitoes and mice are turning people as well. I remember the rats in the field, and the mice that were chewing on them. Whatever it is, it leaves the smaller creatures alive to spread the disease while killing off the larger beasts.
The monks, though, have found a savior. An elderly asian man in a black robe with a red symbol on his hood. He yells, but I don't understand about what. When the mosquitoes swarm him, he crouches and prays, and they are all repelled. Survivors make their way to the temple, through the beauty shop, across planks laid across pits of mud and dirt. We may not believe, but we're willing to fake it for a while if it means survival.

and then I wake up.