Zombies

People don't believe me when I say that I feel like the zombies are coming.

They think I'm being hipper than thou, ironic, whatever.

But I wake up, sometimes at 4, 4:30 in the morning, stagger out to my car, and I'm scared. I really need to get into my car as fast as possible, assure myself there's nothing in the back seat, and lock the doors. Because today might be the day the zombies come.

Of course, eventually the sun comes up. And I forget about zombies for a while.

Let me clarify: I don't think the zombies are coming. I don't think the dead are about to walk the earth. I don't think that I need to put a large blunt object in my car, just in case some rage virus (meh?) or fallen satellite (classic!) or barrel full of toxic liquid zombie parts (I'll give you a dollar if you get that reference) releases a plague of dead-eyed recently undead brain craving individuals into the Boston Metro Area.

But when I'm alone, and the light is that sick green two hours from dawn moosh that only assholes refer to as "moonlight", and it's cold, and it's quiet, yeah- I feel like the zombies are coming.

Of course the Zombies aren't coming.

It's an issue of directionality, I think. This fear reaction, physiological arousal, etc, upon finding yourself alone in the dark, this hyper-awareness in a situation that is safe, is common. Maybe it's universal to feel arousal in everyday situations that we know, cognitively, logically, are safe. Maybe it's one of the oldest human feelings. We're monkeys walking around out there, staggering around a world that has only been safe on a consistent basis for decades.