Note: This was a dream of mine. I have this warning here because some visitors have thought my life had just gone to pot, when really they were only reading one of my crazy dreams. :)

I for some reason wanted to raise someone from the dead, and this was apparently very possible, as there was a whole business of raising the dead. My dad was going to let me. He took me on a tour of several foggy fields in which there were coffins resting on the ground and on short platforms. It was a gray and misty day; kind of dim. Dad was wearing an old winter coat that was really worn out; I don’t know what I was wearing.

The dream skipped to a point where I had had a zombie raised for me. It was some very moldy blonde girl. She was in a dirty white tank top and baggy pants; dirt and dried blood were streaked through her hair and across her face. She kept following me around, although I was trying to hide from her. I was scared of the zombies now, thinking they were going to hurt me. I told my dad as much and he asked me what I had expected. We got to talking about euthanasia, which was apparently related to the zombies somehow. My dad said they were mercy killings, although I can’t remember what he meant by this.

The dream skipped again and I was running around on the headers of a large warehouse; surprisingly, it was easy to stay balanced on the thin beams. It was nighttime and I was running from a friend of mine, Kim. She was angry with me and wanted to kill me. She looked similar to the blonde zombie from earlier. There were a lot of people around us, allowing me to get lost in the crowd. Fires were burning down below in the warehouse and the smoke drifted up to us. I ran around a tall vertical beam, thinking I had lost Kim, but then she came up behind me. I turned to see her and she yelled at me about something. Deciding to get it over with, I ran toward her and we backed toward a large gap between the headers. We grappled with one another for only a few seconds before I shoved her through the gap. She fell several stories to the concrete below; I couldn’t see her land, but I knew she had been killed. I dusted my hands off on my pants legs, completely unconcerned about her death, although I was slightly annoyed because I apparently had to keep killing people.

The dream changed perspective to third person and the camera zoomed out, then moved down through the headers to the concrete floor way below. It zoomed in on Kim’s head in a fire; the skin of her face had turned to dark gray ash. The rest of her body was buried somehow.