Dream Journal 30-03-16
In last night’s dream, I died again. This part was normal for me. I always seem to kill myself off towards the end of my dreams. Last night was different though because the dream started off with my death, or rather my undeath. Because I didn’t actually die in the sense that I became released from all forms of my humanity. Instead, I fell out of an aeroplane, plummetted to my death, but woke up a week later and just pieced myself back together with a sewing kit.
I must have been some kind of undead, zomboid fiend because no mortal could escape that fall. Next thing I knew I found myself serving hotcakes to guests on a lunar Hotel. I wished it could have just been a regular hotel but no, every single member of staff was a different type of undead. The vampire were the chefs, the ghosts and zombies were the stewards and general care, the ghouls manned reception, the skeletons acted as the cleaners. Wights and wraiths took care of the ill. The odd lich or two were general managers and in charge of transportation were three Dracoliches.