In the Dreamer's Seat

I had a freaky Resident Evil kind of dream this morning. It's been several hours since I got up, so the details aren't as vivid anymore, but I think I can still put it together.

I was in a city, and society had collapsed due to a zombie takeover (I'm prone to zombie dreams, this isn't the first). I'm still human, and in a resistance-type group with other humans. The city around the walls of our compound is all ashes, rubble, and fire. The sky overhead is a blanket of apocalyptic smoke. Our stronghold falls under attack, and I get separated from everyone else. No idea if anyone but me is alive, I start running from the zombies coming after me. And they don't lumber along like the walking dead really should, but they are hauling ass like 28 Days Later. They catch up to me, have me on the ground, and I'm fighting to keep from getting eaten. The one whose got her fingers around my throat says to the others (in a perfectly normal voice), "You know what's wrong here? She still has her head on." And she proceeds to try and tear my head off with her bare, dead hands. (I totally blame this scenario on watching the Heroes season opener yesterday.) Now this is the point where I go lucid. I realize I'm dreaming. I wriggle away, and think that all I have to do is get out of the city. I decided that the zombies couldn't be outside of the gated-off portion of the street that--lo, and behold!--is about 20 yards in front of me. I make the dash to the gates, and get through to the other side, where it's nice and sunny and clean.

I didn't know your dreams were allowed to contradict you, but apparently mine do. The zombies disregard my new rule about the urban border, and come through the gates after me, into the sunny side of the street. I back away, onto a sidewalk. They look to their right, towards the source of a noise, and SPLAT. The whole lot are squished by a bus the size of a freight train. I wake up.