Otis and I, and kids are visiting unknown people who live in a trailer. I’m not certain which of my kids are with us or even their ages, but based on content of the dream, I believe the youngest of the kids are at least older teenagers.
It is bedtime and I have a bedroom all to myself. It’s very small but there are two double beds in it, and there is barely enough room to walk around or between the beds. I turn out the light and crawl into bed. Outside the trailer, the roar of what sounds like a very loud vacuum cleaner begins. The noise is annoying, but then I begin hearing crinkling in the bed beside me. I roll over and there is just enough light to see the outline of an inflatable figure emerging. This amuses me because I believe the kids (and perhaps Otis is involved) are intending to play a prank on me.
The figure continues to inflate into the position of a man sitting on the side of the bed. His feet are not between the beds, but rather, toward the wall where the door is. There is plenty of space between him and me. His arms are flapping as they inflate and his head begins to swivel and bob. A motion-sensing night light comes on to add additional low light to the room. The vacuum roar stops, and I can see that the man is actually a zombie, like something from the Walking Dead. His clothes are in tatters and he is half skeleton and half rotting flesh. He has disheveled black hair and bulging eyes. I’m not afraid of him. The prank delights me.
The man’s head swivels around and I make eye contact with him. Very loudly (so everyone can hear), I say “Oh hello there! Do you come here often?” The head continues to bob around and his body shifts on the bed toward my direction (the window is open, so my presumption is that the inflatable man is moved by a breeze). I speak to the man with an extreme southern accent, “It looks like we have a mutual attraction,” and then I giggled loudly.
The man’s arms flap a bit and then he drops back from a sitting position to be somewhat laying down in an unnatural pose with one arm under his back. His shirt exposes an open rib cage that looks disgusting. I stifle a laugh, and say as seductively southern as I can muster, “Oh my, look at those ribs! You have such a big boner! I bet you want a blow-job.”
Feeling very clever, it disappoints me that nobody comes in to laugh with me, so I get up to go see where everyone is and what they are doing. I start down the hallway and realize the zombie man is now chasing me. I shriek and run into the kitchen at the opposite end of trailer. In the bright light, I can see that the zombie-man is not an inflatable, but a real person that I know, respect, and admire very much. He is dressed in a zombie costume, but I’m completely embarrassed and humiliated for speaking to him as I did, even in jest. I woke up.
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