I was pretty sure Shannon was at home, and therefore (relatively) safe, and so I was trying to get to him. I asked this guy on the BART train if I could use his cell phone to call Shannon to let him know I was okay & that I was coming, but the guy said, "No," because I would use up his minutes or something (I have little idea how cell phone plans work). So I started looking for a pay phone. Luckily, BART stations are one of the few places where pay phones can still reliably be found, so I got off at the Rockridge station and called Shannon...
and suddenly the dream changed and I had a baby, except the baby was also Cobweb. Shannon commented that her face looked totally different since we hadn't been able to have the sides of her head shaved (WTF?), due to the zombie apocalypse (which somehow was no longer a big concern). I looked at her face and was sad that she didn't look the same. I also felt determined to get her fur trimmed right again so she looked like herself.
She was also a baby, and I was carrying her around, dream-shifted back to traveling on BART & trying to find a way to get to Shannon. I kept looking into CobwebBaby's face and she seemed so happy and beautiful & I loved her very much. (Here's where, while typing, I decide that CobwebBaby was me, so I guess this is a pretty nice dream, despite the zombies, which I'm guessing are health problems.)
I kept trying to lay CobwebBabyMe down, but all of the surfaces were very hard, and the back of her head didn't look comfortable at all. So I was looking for something to put under her, and I saw a sweatshirt that Non-Phone-Loaning Guy wasn't using—it was just lying a foot or two away from him where he sat—but I was reluctant to ask him for it. (Here's where, while typing, I decide that Non-Phone-Loaning Guy was Shannon, possibly also my mom, from whom—in the real world—I just generally became reluctant to ask for anything.) So I just kept holding CobwebBabyMe in my arms, instead, even though it was inconvenient.
I was trying to figure out how to get home from the BART station without getting devoured by zombies. I was feeling guilty & angry with myself that I don't drive, because a car would be the obvious best choice. I wasn't angry that I don't know how to drive—because it never occurred to me that I could steal a car or something—I was angry at myself for not being one of those car-driving, car-having people, people who can get around so easily in their little private bubbles of safety.
I kept considering possible ways of getting home—ways that normally work for me, ways that I rely on—and ruling them out as impossible: buses (surely overrun by zombies), walking (about 2 miles of dodging zombies in the open). I thought that people living in rural areas were way better off, because there wouldn't be all these fucking people everywhere, and therefore not so many fucking zombies per square mile!
And that's all I remember. I was trying to figure out how to get myself and CobwebBabyMe home safely, but at least I had talked with Shannon & he knew we were okay & I'd gotten whatever else I needed from that phone call (because it wasn't just about reassuring Shannon—it was also something I was doing for me, because I needed it).
And now I've woken up to gray skies and a minor headache. I don't mind the gray skies & the headache is far better than many I've lived with recently, so I'm feeling pretty cheerful.
Don't let the zombies get you down!