The other day, I woke up around 5 a.m. from a dream about zombies. I was inside a big building with a glass roof dome. There were undead walking outside like it was zombie rush hour, and the sky above the dome was just one giant swirl of vomit, tinged with yucky yellows and greens. (Nobody ever seems to allude to the fact that zombies must STINK.) I woke up feeling grossed out.
A few years ago, a colleague of mine wondered why zombies hold such an appeal for many people. Back then, my running theory was that becoming a zombie was a form of afterlife. But, what kind of life is that? Walking around all day, looking for somebody to eat.
Currently, I think that zombies, however scary and unpleasant, also have a comical side, which helps us deal with that uncomfortable issue, death. For what is a zombie but a caricature of the human body? It has no higher aims and all it wants to do is…well, eat. Braiiins, please. (Granted, a zombie typically has no other urges.)
Also, in dystopian worlds where zombies abound, I think it’s about time someone put them to work. For example, hang some zombie food in front of a gang of those creatures and let them knock themselves out walking in a circle, generating electricity or mowing the lawn, if nothing else.