I had a dream...

[OberFeldwebel]

uryu ishida

I had an odd one. Based sorta off of a vampire book from the author of "Monster Island". Mixed in with 28 Weeks Later.
I had an AR-15/M16A2 (it randomly switched between semi auto and full auto), adn there was just this one giant zombie (he looked a lot like that one guy posted in the "Americans, why do YOU need your guns" thread) that I kept shooting over and over. HE wouldn't go the ******** down! This was the only dream in which I actually used the firearm, it worked, and it worked like in real life. Down to the trigger pull. I seemed to only have one pocket for magazines, and it never seemed to get empty. So after emptying about 3 magazines into his chest, I manage a head shot just before he crushes me. Then, I push the body off a cliff onto some sharp rocks.

The dream replayed. Except, The charging handle got replaced with what felt like a pull cord, and it had a handle on the side of the bolt.

The dream replayed yet again. Except, I had an AK-47. THAT JAMMED. Alot. Still killed him, still pushed him off a cliff.
I think it would have been better if I'd gotten a Mosin Nagant and blown it's entire chest out mrgreen

[/thread revive]

Ahhh! The thread is now a zombie! KILL IT!  

[uryu ishida]

WITH FIRE!  

[Freak_090]

Didn't feel like making another thread. (Would anyone be opposed to having a "Zombie Dream" sticky thread?)

Just to explain some things that may appear to be unexplainable: My dreams are awkward, I will remember doing something in a dream plot-wise that was skipped in the actual occurrence of the dream. They also end with a bad plot point.


I had a dream earlier this week about a zombie epidemic in which I was in my "Home town." Except it wasn't my town, at all, instead it resembled a small 1940s town with conjoined buildings and painted advertisings on the walls of reddish-brown brick buildings that made what I can only describe as "strip centers". These buildings were about two stories tall and the lower levels consisted of shops, while the upstairs would be the shop owners home.

The dream started with two of my friends, only one of whom I could identify as "Michael", and I were running down a street in a loose V formation towards my friend Ben's house. Our goal was to retrieve Ben, bring him back to my house, and there we would organize a survival plan.

I was carrying an M44 with the bayonet extended, Michael was carrying my shotgun, and the other was carrying a rifle of some sort. Each of us carried a back pack with only minimal equipment: bandages, and a small ration of food.

After retrieving Ben, we were on our way back to my house when we encountered a Zombie which was quickly disposed of via 12gauge to the face. Upon arriving at my house I noticed that the lights were on, I remembered turning them off when I left with my two friends to go retrieve Ben. So I traded my rifle for the shotgun I let Michael use and moved into the house to see what was going on.

I moved passed the main hallway and into the kitchen to find my ex-girlfriend, and about ten of her friends were going through my fridge, pantry, draws... everything. I would have shot them if it wasn't for the fact that some of them where my friends, and most all of them were friends of Michael and Ben. I stood there in shock for a second wondering WTF was going on. When I snapped out of it I blurted, "What the hell are y'all doing in my house!?"

The only response I got was, "... we needed supplies..." I'm not the person to hold a grudge, even if you did break into MY house needing supplies. (You're hear, you need help, we need help, and you're a waste of my ammo) We established that because we were at MY house, and I was the oldest, and I had the firepower that I was the leader of our newly formed group.

We were about to head out so I looked around the house for my ammo can. I looked around the house trying to find it. It was nowhere to be found. About 5 mins into my search one of the kids that broke into my house ask, "What are you looking for." I ignored the statement and kept on searching. (Seriously? It's a HUGE OD GREEN can in a house that is mostly brown. Why can't I find it?) So, it's been about ten minutes of dodging and squeezing between the dumb asses all over my house when I had finally decided that enough was enough. So I just stopped, stood up and screamed, "WHERE THE ******** IS MY GOD DAMNED AMMO!?!?!?!" To make things worse the response I get is, "ohh, we couldn't use any of it so we moved it to a house down the street..."

END