I was over at my friend Jackie Too-Tan's house, which was up at 92nd Street, which was the edge of urban Manhattan. It only took about 10-20 minutes to walk to an Atlanta-style apartment complex, which quickly turned into a rich people neighborhood. The houses weren't mansions, but they were spread out enough to show off the amount of space they could afford.
We found our way back to Adele's and by then I needed to poop, so I crept into Adele's little girl's room. There was a toilet on the wall of an otherwise normal bedroom. I looked around her children's books to find something to read, but then I saw a woman about my age on the bed, keeping perfectly still and looking at me. I told her I was sorry and I thought it was her little sister's room, and would she mind if I still pooped in there? "Go ahead," she told me, but I don't think I followed through.
I carried 2 katanas at a time. I lamented that this was the real world now, and that no matter how hard I tried to wake up, this was reality and not a dream. I couldn't believe this was happening. It felt so unfair that we'd just dealt with the blackout and now it was turning into the same exact situation only MUCH more dangerous this time. "Will we ever go back to the way things were?" I asked. "Obviously, just not right away," answered someone.
I found out there was limited bus service going back into Manhattan, so I walked out of the large neighborhood and found the bus line. Everyone was back to human, but then again they were never really that zombieish in the first place. Everyone was nervous about when the next wave would arrive (would it come at night?) but no one let it keep them from going right back into Manhattan. I called my mom to let her know I was ok. Finally I woke up. Then it took another 2 hours to finally be convinced that I was wrong, that this was indeed just a dream, and that it was now over. It doesn't feel over.