I play too many video games.

Last night my dreams were full of zombies; greenish-blue skinned vestiges of people I'd known before. In last night's Eyelid Theatre I played a student version of myself, loitering by a convenience store. Eyeing Twinkies and possibly cavorting on a skateboard (which I am miserable at in real life), I sought to avoid the undead creatures trying to touch my feet.

One of them was a girl that had been my friend. Her name was Camille, but now she was unrecognizable and hungry. I escaped into a drugstore and hid amongst the toothbrushes.

My boyfriend's mom joined me in safety, away from clawing hands and iridescent flesh. "What are they?" she asked me.

I explained as best I could.

"The state of undead is perpetuated by a virus."

Great. My dreams are now ripping off Resident Evil.

The most irritating aspect of these zombies was that they only had to touch you in order to turn you into one of them. No biting was required; the virus they carried was apparently capable of jumping from person to person (or more accurately, from zombie to potential zombie) with the slightest casual contact. Some of these creatures crawled on the ground, going for the legs. Others walked, making the obligatory slurping and dragging noises.

I woke up in darkness, thinking of spells and scrolls.

Man, I need to get a life!

Update: I had another RPG-related dream the night after, but in the interest of avoiding NFN, I will relate the exciting details here.

I was a member of an adverturer's party consisting of three individuals: me, a dwarf with an axe, and Michael Jackson. We were sent to investigate a pack of dire wolves in the deep woods. Jacko was immediately pounced upon and killed; the wolves ate his face. The dwarf fell soon after. I was the only one left alive, and I ran off without killing the wolf pack leader.