I had a dream last night about a beheading, which lead to a zombie apocalypse, which led to a discovery of a coven in a high school basement. A dream where I ran into my sister who had a surprising way of warding off zombies and an aversion to accepting gifts from cricket-sacrificing witches. It was strange and beautiful. Here's how it went:
The reason for the beheading is blurry, but myself and six other people had upset the governing body of the time (who in my mind was just "parliament") and were sentenced to be beheaded. As I watched the others line up to have their heads sliced off, I screamed. It was as if I felt their pain again and again as their heads, one by one, were severed and rolled. Then something strange happened. Some of the bodies started getting up, heads somehow intact and attached, their mouths bloody and frothing with craze, eyes hungry. They attacked the executioners, who then also became the ravenous undead. I was the only one in the room to get away, and snatched the opportunity to relinquish my culpability in the whole affair as my executioners were no longer capable of performing their assignment or the reporting thereof.
Soon the entire campus, for now it would seem our setting was a high school, was rampant with zombies. I panicked and ran to stay away from them, finding myself going down a flight of stairs I didn't recognize and into the basement of the building. This previously-hidden part of the structure was mysterious and intriguing. The walls were an off-white cement, with symbols of scryings and divinations carved or painted throughout. Most of what I could see was a long hallway, but had small prayer-coves on the end and sides with altars whereupon were placed modest statues or spell-books. Unexpectedly safe from the breakout of the undead above, I felt somehow at ease here, like a force was protecting me. I basked in the feeling for a moment, not fully aware of anything around me. Catching a glimpse of a being approaching one of the shrines near me, I was snapped out of my reverie.
She was dark and beautiful, wrapped in black lace, her hair pulled half-up to show her distinct features. I felt I should tell her of all that happened and ask for her help. I asked her for the most direct way out of the building to avoid the zombies, and she pointed toward a door. Somehow, as she pointed, droves of people also realized this was the safest exit and filed out. Wary, but trusting the apparent wisdom and power of the witch, I found my way through the exodus. Unfortunately, it was difficult to remain protected in the crowd, and several zombies soon pulled me to the ground. One bit into my wrist. I stiffened and screamed, but she stopped, hissing and exclaiming that I tasted awful. The others of her party climbed off me and sought prey elsewhere.
Concerned that I might become infected and transform, but confident that their poison had not yet entered my blood (maybe I was still being protected by the coven...and maybe it was the Gingham Love lotion I recently bought as a Valentines day treat), I went in search of my car. On my way, I found my sister working her way to safety as well. Worried she may have already turned, I whispered to her "are you still you?"
"Yes, I'm just pretending so they think I'm one of them. I'm also pretending to be lesbian as a backup."
...so these zombies are homophobes who are also repelled by preppy lotion scents??...
Somehow we found ourselves back in the underground coven. I had a sense that we were at the north part of the structure. My sister seemed particularly drawn to a shrine at the end of the hallway. She touched one of the symbols engraved on the wall, which shifted and made an unlocking sound. A wooden feature, not unlike a chandelier, started to float down from the ceiling. When it reached us, it opened and revealed a small box, delicately engraved, with a metal latch on the front. She opened it to uncover several glimmering broaches and bracelets. A voice from the female portrait in front of us reassured her that these were a gift to her. She almost took them, but then spoke her discomfort at knowing this particular coven requested sacrifice of crickets. Sure enough, the lid of the delicate box was indicative of her claim: carved to look like a cricket. She turned and left.
I lingered, sensing something unfinished. As I looked around I realized the portrait we heard from was not a women after all, but a very handsome warlock. This discovery was undoubtedly brought on in part because that very warlock was now standing within view, halfway across the room.
He took a few steps forward and addressed me. His manner was not unkind, but I was still afraid, not knowing why he felt to show himself at this time and not earlier. His portrait had obviously been shrouded while my sister was there -- we had only been aware of the females in this coven up to this point. He spoke his interest in my sister refusing the gift. His tone was sincerely curious rather than malicious or proud, though, so I felt my fear assuage somewhat.
Suddenly another warlock blundered into the room, battered and bloody. He had been attacked by the throng above. He began to explain that, because of his already-existing immortality, he would regain his true form rather than succumb to the infection, but the process was painful and debilitating. He then fully noticed my presence, though the fact that he felt he needed to explain himself as he came in the room told me that he had already been somewhat aware of a mortal guest in his realm. I remember both of them talking with me for a few more moments, but then I woke, the conversation unfinished.
