The X-mass fair begins today and I seem to be a little bit nervous, because I've been scratching the inside of my left elbow - something I do until it starts to hurt - but i do not realize it until it does hurt.. But we've been setting stuff up yesterday and as far as outdoors goes, it's been one of my favorite December days so far.
Okay, so maybe I do miss the company of people, not all of whom are entirely chosen. Having close friends is a balm, but meeting folk that doesn't seem to want to bother me is also kind of neat. I forget that sometimes. Though time will tell how spot on my radars are. We set up the stuff for two of the wee cottages (both green! yahh!!) and today we'll set the stuff on display and officially start selling it. I wonder if I'll sell anything. Ah, well. No idea if it'll be devastatingly dull and freezing or time will fly and it'll be exciting. But I better make sure the weather is in our favor, because it would just suck if all tho weeks weren't super x-massy-sunny!
As part of my nervousness, I woke up at 3am today (okay, I actually do that every night, but this time I couldn't go play warcraft, because I needed my beauty sleep.) and it took me an hour to fall back asleep. Then I had some really cool dreams about zombies. three consecutive ones - three consecutive movie sets, in act. The first one was kind of like The Walking Dead and a bunch of us was driving someplace that we assumed was safer. Dunno, some kind of old industry on some hill or something. The General was still in the dream with me, but we got separated. It was night-time. Our car hit some sort of an animal, some large white dog or something, or the carcass of it already, and we needed to pause. But as soon as we got out of the car, we were followed by a hunting party of hillbillies that were out for food. They mainly looked like the scurvy cast of True Blood's meth family. They were dirty, very thin and mostly quite anemic. They saw the dog (I was hiding in the nettly ditch that General pulled me down into just in time - directly under the dog.) They gutted the dog and put the intestines away, of course directly on me - though that wasn't quite as bad as I would have feared. But because of it, they found me. For a moment the jury was out whether I would be a better meal than the dog.
They took me to their place and the son of them wanted to take my blood. He was going to use a needle that was almost definitely twice the size of my vain and had no idea how to do it. I tried to show him and do it myself, but he lost interest half the way. We kind of laid down on his bed, which was so worn out that the fabrics of the mattress were tearing if I put too much pressure on one point and he got upset over it. His mother, probably about ten years older than him, wasn't so happy that he was making friends with food, but she didn't have the upper hand on decision making in the house, men did.
Then we went someplace. Again, on top of some hill. We got swarmed first by some zombies and then by more - and I didn't have any weapon and didn't run quite as fast to make it count. It was downhill over tiny sideways and neat by-ways, but it was hard going. I fell behind and my new-found meth-head family didn't wait for me - in fact they abandoned me with little emotion. They probably saw me as a decoy bait. I kept thinking that kicking zombies in the face was probably the most effective way to put them off, but they had the upper ground, I am no Mila Jovovich and they didn't quite as insistently fall back on iron railings as I had hoped. Plus there was the constant threat of being scratched - and bitten, if i happened to get my foot stuck in their teeth.
Another night came. Fucking winters. I remembered an estate I saw in the middle of town, that was mildly secure with a large, lit mansion in the middle, but more importantly: a very large fence around a very large pool in the middle of which (and it was an elaborate, half swimming, half decorative, modern-like-swamp pool), was a half finished villa. I climbed the large fence to meet with eight fat dobermans - I had met them before and six of them were perfectly ready to be tickled behind their ears. Two were giving me trouble, but I think the other six ate them in turn. I jumped across the pool decor and made it to the house. This house was single-handed built by an old Michael Ironside-like guy, frustrated by his marriage (I could hear his wife across the entire estate) and somewhat willing to host me. There was sex involved here also, but as per usual, the damn zombies interrupted us here also. They followed the lights and the wife's annoying voice and were beginning to round the estate. Although the rich guy had supplies for a couple of weeks while he was building his getaway, they were running out. What we really needed, were some hand grenades.
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