Last night I had paralyzing zombie apocalypse nightmares. The zombies moved really fast, like vampires, and also ate my friends and family. Whenever I’d manage to fall back asleep after waking myself up from one, I’d just go right back to another, in a different landscape: the tiered streets that frequently appear in my dreams as “London”; a Victorian house during a pizza party; the living room in my apartment, where the zombies were coming in through the back window we keep open all night.
I am exhausted, at a loss for words, which is really just a continuation of the state I’ve been in for the past week. I blame the gigantic orange moon that loomed last night over the BQE. Caleb also had strange dreams, as did a friend who I just ran into on the street. I was going to move the Jeep, after a cop came to our house, and said that I needed to find a new parking space, or some idiot driving a tractor trailer too large for our block was going to crush it into mangled pieces.
Anyway, where am I? Oh yes, Nancy Cunard. Somehow I managed to drop her into a story about “outrageous runways” this morning. Trés jolie.
