What could be more tedious than a recounting of ones dreams?
There were zombies everywhere. Maybe not zombies. But dirty, sick, violent hordes. You know the routine. One of them came up to me as I fled (or was trying to) and said, “You want to see this-” (piercing her own cheek deeply with a finger and tearing flesh off) “but I want to see this” (touching my skull and eliciting a memory, not mine.)