I was hanging out around the city centre. Various people were with me who I recognised (people from recent places of employment, etc), all jumbled together as some sort of crew, like high school kids. We may have been watching something at an outdoor cinema in a city that felt somewhere between Sydney and London and perhaps somewhere else I’ve not been to before – possibly in America. I was having fun; I was drinking beer from a plastic beaker and was wearing a hoodie.
Then a sense of trepidation began to take over. There were tremors and large pieces of buildings falling onto the pavement. It was mild at first, but then panic began to take over everyone and crowds were screaming along in great chaotic streams in cliched apocalyptic film fashion. I pressed my back against a building window as a huge block of concrete smashed onto the street in front of me. I think people were being killed and crushed all around – I didn’t see it per se, but knew, the way one does in dreams. There was that somewhat familiar omnipotent extra-terrestrial threat, though I don’t think I saw an alien.
The sense of fear and desperation continued, but the scene morphed to somewhere on the outskirts of the city – a far more rural context. People were running and screaming everywhere but it was night-time. And now there were zombies. There may have been some correlation between extra-terrestrials and human infection but this was far from explicit. I was running through a field, leaping over wooden fence palings, following hundreds of other screaming individuals, clutching for whatever random implements I could find to defend myself. I ended up carrying something heavy and metal, part of a tractor perhaps. A gnarled, bloody humanoid with its clothes and flesh all torn was hissing and snapping its jaws as it lurched toward me in the dark. I woke up just as I began beating it ferociously with my piece of heavy machinery – all crunching, squirting noises.