The zombies are us

 

I keep dreaming about zombies for some reason. And not because I'm watching a lot of zombie related television. Well, not exactly. It's all zombie related. The post apocalyptic zombie world that is inhabited by walking, creeping, dead shells of humans, who are determined to devour us, is a metaphor for our own plight in this world of inescapable death. In these scenarios, the living are forced to be constantly vigilant, always on the move and can never get comfortable. Because, in the moment you rest or become complacent for a minute, there they are at your back, ready to eat your guts and devour your brains.

That is the nature of the life we live. Keep moving or become food. If not mountain lions, bears and coyotes, then bacteria or some other opportunistic parasite will find us. If we are not in motion our bodies become weak and stagnate, and the creeping forces of our demolition are never far away. We keep moving in a cat and mouse game that we will ultimately lose, but feel compelled to attempt to win by various strategies. Working, saving, planning, having goals, doing projects, investing in some future or worthy cause--all flailings at the death which pursues us relentlessly.

I had that revelation last night while dreaming of yet another zombie-filled world, in which I had to keep myself alive by never resting, even for a moment. In the dream, I was riding a horse in an arena, assisted by my Aunt Carol. I was putting to use the wealth of information Sharon had instilled in me about how to mount and ride horses. At one point, I fell off and heard myself utter the cliche: "You must get back up on the horse." It was imperative, especially in zombie world, where the flesh-eaters were always lurking nearby.

I could feel the connection to my everyday life, where I'm faced with the choice between stagnation, hastening my eventual demise, and motion, fending off the inevitable for at least one more day. When I choose sleep over activity, isolation over socialization and TV over real life, my body gives inches, feet and yards in the battle. My options become more and more limited as I retreat to "safer" ground, seeking only to be done with the fight. 

Ha. You're never done. There is no rest in zombie world. To rest is to die and become one of them. And even then there is no rest, at least until someone does you the kindness of piercing your skull and killing what's left of your brain.

Ok, maybe I have been watching a little too much zombie TV. Sue me. It's become embedded in our culture.  I have met the zombies and they are us.