I have weird dreams, frequently. On New Years' Eve 2012 I published a book of dreams I'd written down up until that point. I'm currently working on volume II.

Anyway. Go buy this, it's three bucks.

Here's a sample:

A HAUNTED HOUSE IN A ZOMBIE WORLD
December 29, 2012

In this dream, I'm on the set of a movie. Apparently they're remaking one of the classic 80s Eddie Murphy movies. I'm not sure which, I never really watched any aside from The Golden Child, and I'm sure that doesn't count. So in this, we're filming a scene in which Eddie Murphy's been tarred and feathered and he stands outside arguing with his hilariously incompatible partner until it begins raining and the tar and feathers wash off. Mr. Murphy looked resplendent in his feathers.  

As we're filming, I note the Connecticut river flowing nearby. It's low- really low- almost dried up. Gray-green algae is showing on the bed of the river. I realize we're on the lawn of my grandmother's house. The house has been torn down for years in real life, but it keeps popping up in my dreams.

A group of people begin walking up the driveway and the scene changes. Suddenly we're all survivors in a zombie world. No zombies remain- it's been about a half a year and they've all but rotted away, but the world remains devastated. Small bands of roving survivors move from area to area. All that matters are guns, food and water. We all hide and the other group begins exploring the grounds. One of them finds me crouched against the side of the barn. I'm caught, so I try something and hold my finger up to my lip. "Shhhh," like he's just going to be confused and nod, not saying anything. My gambit fails and he brings me over to the others, who are gathered on a 50s-style bus.

I make the case that they shouldn't kill me, because this was my grandmother's house and I know where everything's kept. "Oh yeah?" one asks. "Like what?"

"Like this." I pull out a capped mason jar with a thick, clear syrup inside. "Sasparilla." The entire bus oohs and ahhs.

Their leader says "that's just the syrup. Can you get the tonic water?"

"AND ice," I reply. Everyone nods and looks at each other. A cold drink of soda is just the thing if you've been living a long time in a desolate apocalyptic world, I guess. They agree to take me and my people.

I get to work and enter the house, looking for ice and seltzer. Suddenly my friend Julie's with me. We look for ice and find a big brick of it hiding in an old freezer that apparently was still running. I think I know where the seltzer is and open a cabinet. Nothing. I tell Julie "Uhh... it's okay, I think I know where the seltzer is. The problem is that it's upstairs."

"Why's that a problem?"

"It's haunted up there." In my recurring dreams about my grandmother's house, the rooms go on and on forever. There's always one more door to walk through, and the further you go, the weirder it gets. If you go up, the attic turns into interlocked barns, and they're all haunted. Not cutesy I-think-I-heard-a-noise haunted, but bad haunted where the ghosts are actively trying to kill you so you'll join them. She agrees to come with me all the same. What a sport... I didn't want to go up there alone.

We go up through the trap door and climb a rickety ladder. Here we're in a room-sized nook in the side of this barn's wall. The air is thick and still, and every sound is echoed. I begin looking around, and something shifts. It's a hand of cards that someone's put down on a table, and it looks like it was put down recently. "Julie!" I call out. "Look, I think I found evidence of the paranormal!" She comes over and we examine the table, finding that it's ringed with smartphones. I pick one up and look at the screen. It's got a hand of cards on it. Suddenly, all the phones buzz with texts at the same time. The texts are identical on every phone.

5=F 4=S

"It's a code," I say. "They're trying to tell us how to decode something!!" More texts come in.

0=S 7=F 14=F

Apparently the only letters ghosts write coded messages with are S and F. Well scratch that, we won't be able to read it anyway. I cycle through the ghost phone's texts, hoping to find something interesting. It's all very mundane.

janice, u up?

yeah lol me 2

hey, going 2 the poker game tonight? holla back.