There must be something in the Canadian water.
For years, my good friend Parker's been regailing me of tales from his elaborate subconscious. His dreams are so incredibly elaborate and vivid that it would be a crime for me to try and do them justice. Ask him yourself.
Well, ever since I've hit these shores I've been getting very intense, life-like dreams almost every night. Last night was the wildest one, though.
It started with me waking up in my apartment-room bed and looking around. My bed was the same, but something was wrong. My desk was no longer there. In its place was another bed, with all my stuff (my laptop, hard drive, etc) on top. Who had performed this mystery-switch and what had I done to wake up in this strange however oddly familiar place?
Traipsing out of the room, I discovered that I was absolutely not in my apartment building however similar my bedroom may have appeared. I was in some sort of shared house shared between a bunch of stereotypically nerdy guys and a bevvy of buxom beauties. In spite of the ethereal trappings of my environment, the irony absolutely wasn't lost on me. However, much like real life, the nerds were quite happy to listen to my plight, while the babes were not.
So, with great haste, I packed up all my things (which conveniently disappeared after I put the bag on my back) and set out into the town.
Only one problem.
We're not talking slow-moving, flesh-eating Romero zombies, we're talking fast-paced, talkative, intuitive, brain-thirsty Return of the Living Dead zombies. I was in deep shit. Valiantly staving off a horde of the foul undead beasts, I came to a pulsing, organic red orb that sort of looked like a spherical heart. I instinctively realised that this orb was what had caused the dead to rise. I throttled it until it burst, spewing foul-smelling blood everywhere. How and ever, while the zombie-creator was dead, the remaining zombies were not and were chanting "Brains! Brraaaainsss!" hungrily, behind me.
I made a run for it, but unlucky for me, I was heading straight toward an army of armed forces, who ended up accidentally shooting me in the head. Thus ended my life on this other plane of existence. Perhaps it was the best way to escape this post-apocalyptic warzone in which I had woken. I had died a hero's death. And after all, death is only the beginning of the next adventure.
Then I woke up unemployed, with a bitch of a hangover and watched a few episodes of "How I Met Your Mother". Real life is lame.