I dreamt about a zombie apocalypse last night. I rarely remember my dreams, and when I do they're not usually very cool. The only part I remember well took place at my grandparent's house. In the middle of this terrible mess Dianna and I were setting the table with my great grandmother's antique silverware, the set we only use on special occasions. It was weird to me even in my dream. I didn't understand why we were all sitting down to a nice meal when we should probably be barricading windows, rationing food and planning an emergency escape route, but my grandpa was insisting on it. I don't remember the up close zombie encounters in great detail. Besides, the wind is picking up outside and I'm home alone tonight working on a women's studies final. I think I'll end the mild zombie talk there, for now.