I miss the zombies . . .

Mostly it’s the zombies I miss.  Running, snarling through the streets of my subconscious, consuming the brains of family and friends through apocalyptic landscapes.  After finding myself cornered by a mob of the undead, I would wake in a cold sweat, scanning my body for tell-tale bite marks before rushing to my computer to write it all down.  Other dreams would erupt from time to time: dragon-chasing, infiltrating government lab, saving citizens with Batman and Robin.  All would lead to different story; a different morning spent drinking coffee and writing.  I miss the free time, the absence of anxiety, the stories.  But mostly I miss the zombies. Continue reading