This morning, in my semi-awake stage, as Jerry was leaving for work, I told him to "be careful of the zombies."
"What?" he'd asked, confused of course, because most days I say something like "have a good day."
"The zombies," I told him, "careful. They're everywhere."
So, yes, it's true that dreaming during pregnancy takes on a whole new dimension, and it's often a blurry line between what's real and what's been a dream. Lately, especially, my dreams have taken on a particularly vivid quality, and I believe this is because I wake up every 2 hours to either pee or shift around, so I am constantly interrupting my REM cycle, and thus, waking in the middle of dreams. Therefore, they take on a more realistic quality.
And last night, I was dreaming about the zombie war.
Why? Simple. I'm reading "World War Z" by Max Brooks. (Jerry read it about a year ago and kept harassing me to read it, so I finally decided to pluck it off the bookshelf and give it a go: turns out, he's right; it's an engrossing, fast-paced read. Plus, anyone who knows me, knows I have a particular fascination with zombies. I can't explain it, I just do.)
So, I went to bed last night with a head filled with zombie images. But in my dreams, I'm never in a passive role. No way. I'm not gonna sit idly by while zombies take over the world; I'm gonna be a fuckin' zombie mercenary. So in my dream, I am hunting down zombies with nothing but my closest posse, who all just happen to be the entire cast from "How I Met Your Mother" (I've been re-watching seasons 2 and 3 on DVD lately: I have a lot of time on my hands these days).
So, when Jerry woke me this morning to say "goodbye," I was still in this dream-like state when I bid him to be careful of zombies. What can I say? I'm a considerate wife, and I'd prefer he didn't get devoured by the undead. Plus, I've made it pretty clear in our past discussions that if he were bit by a zombie and infected that I would dispose of him rather quickly.