I dreamed I was helping to save three Islamic women who were under attack. We jumped into my jeep, and I was speeding around trying to get them to sanctuary while guided missiles were following right behind us, ready to blow us up. I was dodging in and out of ziggurats on the desert at sunset, with the missiles just on my tail, but I finally managed to lose them and get over the border into the safe zone.
After I left to go home, I stumbled into the zombie apocalypse. There was some sort of infection that, if the carriers bit you, your flesh slowly dissolved away and you became an animate skeleton. The team I joined was using pitchforks with long handles to spear the infected bone people and hurl them into a big bonfire. And keep them there, because burning them to final death took time.
Eventually the fire was dying down and it became evident that we were fighting a losing battle. One after another we became infected, and there just weren't enough uncontaminated people on the team to deal with the sick ones. One by one we fell to the disease, and soon we were all walking piles of bone. And we realized it actually wasn't that bad. What had seemed so scary was just another form of consious life, and we began to feel horrible about all the people we'd thrown into the fire just for being different. Especially since, given time, the condition reversed itself, and we were all normal humans again.
To work off my guilt, I became a detective. I was given a commission by a wealthy man to go inspect his mansion while he was away, because he thought someone was trying to take it from him. When I got there with my partner, there were three or for ruffians lounging around in the upper floors, so we called our client, but he said not to worry about them, but to check for some very specific signs.
Was the house keeper keeping the antique firearms clean, but was she obviously unaware of what they actually were? Yes. They were sparkling clean, but in several pieces that she couldn't even put back in the hidden wall cases correctly.
Were there three polished pebbles in the right hand drawer of the desk in the study? Yes, there were.
Were there any loose paving stones? Here we needed clarification. Did he mean the path outside, leading up to the main front door? Or did he mean in the gardens? The tiles around the pool? The slate floor of the kitchen? He said to check them all. And in every single place, every single stone and tile was loose. Uh oh! But then I woke up.
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