Lament About Things I Can’t Control…Like the Zombie Apocalypse

I had a weird night last night, and now I’m not so sure I want to spend the next two years living alone.

First, and most importantly, I dreamt a zombie was about to eat my head.

I’m so serious,

and it scared the bejesus out of me. I dreamt there was a zombie apocalypse and this lady told me that perfume would mask my smell so I was spraying myself but a zombie tricked me and as I went to spray myself again it went to eat my head.

I know you guys are probably laughing your heads off (pun intended) but I’m serious! I was so freaked!

I guess I forced myself from the dream because as it was going to bite my head my eyes flew open and I was in my tiny studio once again with all my crap comfortingly strewn about.

And I was laying there, taking in my clothes in a heap by the door, my bicycle next to the bathroom, my boxes and papers piled in front of the storage closet and I thought about how I just woke up from a nightmare and I’m alone.

So I did what any independent, college-educated, 24-year-old smart and sassy young woman would do: I called my mommy and told her I had a nightmare.

She laughed at me, but dangit! Zombies are no laughing matter.

I woke up from my nightmare and I was alone. And I mean, I guess ideally there would be some chocolate man hunk in my bed, just waiting to be woken and told about my scary zombie dream while holding me and struggling to keep a straight face.

But I don’t even have a roommate whose presence could be used as a source of comfort. Which, honestly, normally I relish. The Story of bryoneyH’s roommates is a blog series in itself–suffice it to say, I have lived with a homeless crackhead, an angry lesbian, a 19-year-old girl (which in my opinion is at least as bad as a homeless, angry, strung-out lesbian) and a slew of other characters who have successfully ensured that my future husband and I might actually work out a neighbor situation rather than merging homes.

But last night, as I was laying in an apartment that felt both overcrowded and empty, both familiar and strange…it really bothered me that I was laying there alone.

But what else is to be expected? I’m a single, 24-year-old woman. I’m making a way in this world; I’m making a life for myself. Part of that involves living alone. You know what they say–you never really know a person until you live with them.

But sometimes I lay down and I pray that I can put an end to this sham life and start my legitimate one, the one that involves loving someone other than myself. The one that involves living with other people (namely, my family). The one that involves not waking up alone after dreaming a zombie tried to eat my head.

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5 responses to “Lament About Things I Can’t Control…Like the Zombie Apocalypse

  1. Really though, aren’t moms the best for that? Since I’m moving in about three weeks, my mom has been really putting the speed dial to use. She’s always calling to check if we need any help packing or whatever. It’s great. I’m going to miss having her less than a two hour drive away. She’ll be more like a $1500 plane ticket and 6 hour drive away. Which really isn’t a big deal when the phones are working. 😉

    Zombie dreams though…they are often the best…provided you are the ass-kicking heroine in the dream, and not having your head eaten.

  2. Word, word, word. See, I mean it so much, I had to repeat it twice.
    I get the whole mommy thing. You’re never too old for a mommy. Though I have to say, it’s one of the double standards I enjoy- a girl will always sound sweet saying mommy or daddy. A boy just sounds like, well, a bit of a wimp. Oh that was harsh, wasn’t it? Oh well.

    Also, check out Blossom Dearie’s version of Just One of Those Things. It’s legendary.

  3. Thats the thing Bry you are obviously on a track to somewhere.Where that is exactly is a mystery but you won’t be alone for long. And the zombie apocalypse is a serious threat against national security, trust me we’re all unsure of how we will survive that calamity.

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