I had a really cool dream last night, a blog-worthy dream.

For some reason, I was in an old European city walking around with a group of vaguely familiar people. Maybe it was Rome, or Venice. It was gray and mostly make of old stone. I was walking past an old wall outside on a narrow street and suddenly parts of the wall opened up and it was an old mausoleum. The whole wall was full of dead old ladies. They all looked the same, yellow decaying faces with large noses, and their bodies tightly wrapped in black shrouds. Everybody I was walking with didn't seem to notice the corpses laying in the recesses in the wall. We all turned at an opening in the wall and walked down a set of stairs to a dimly lit room full of strangers. It was cool and dry and had stone walls, ceiling, and floor, like a basement. There were people dressed up for a social gathering milling around quietly, talking to each other in hushed voices as they would in a cathedral. There were several rooms like this, all full of quiet people. Then, from the shadows and corners of the rooms, the dead old women from the wall outside started standing up and walking around slowly. Dozens of eyeless old crones with yellowed, sallow faces and frail bodies wrapped in black were all slowly ambling around with the other people. Each one was only about five feet tall, slightly hunched over. I was uncomfortable, so I avoided them as best I could. I kept walking down small flights of stairs and through more and more rooms of old dead ladies. I got freaked out and started panicking when I realized that I was surrounded by zombies, and I tried to get out, but there were too many of them in my way, so I started punching them. For some reason I can never move fast or hit very hard when I dream, but I was able to beat the crap out of these frail old dead ladies pretty easily. I think it's because they were all atrophied and because they didn't have any water in their systems, so their muscles were useless and they were really light weight. I would punch them and they would fall over. I was really enjoying myself, actually. I managed to escape out a back entrance and for some reason I exited out of a screen porch in the American suburbs where a large white passenger van was waiting for me with all the people I was with in the beginning. They were waving to me to get in when two other people, a man and a woman from inside came running up to me and started yelling at me. Apparently, the old zombie hags were their old dead relatives and they were raised from the dead once a year for a traditional family function. None of them meant me any harm after all, but I wasn't convinced. Then the two people stated to turn yellow and sickly like the zombies, so I punched them both and jumped in the van where everybody congratulated me and we drove away. I woke up and I was pretty happy that I got to punch out a bunch of zombies.

The cool thing about when I dream is that not only do I see color, but I see dramatic lighting and shadows as well. My dreams are often very cinematic, but this was the first time I battled harmless geriatric European zombies.