(This isn't last night's dream, details of which still elude me, though apparently the longer you can stave off giving into the cravings for eating human flesh, the longer you remain not-a-full-zombie... Anyway, this is an oldie from 2006, fleshed-out (heh) into more detail.)
This is a choice moment from the film/ dream - the part that remains the clearest:
We've been preparing for the eventuality that zombies will almost certainly turn up. I'm a scientist who's been studying them and letting people know how zombies work, what to expect, etc. I've also, for some reason, got a dodgy leg. I mean like: serious Dr. House-Season-One-like dodgy.
I've been outside the compound (it is becoming increasingly revealed that we're the aliens - having settled another planet - and the zombies are less the things to fear than the creatures who make zombies - out of humans, out of all sorts of species) The "aliens" are huge, sky-flying-in-grey-metal-ships beings - vastly intelligent and vastly bored. They make zombies for as-yet-not-totally-ascertained reasons, but it has something to do with hunting - from the skies, in their big ships and subjugation - i.e. having a set of beings you can bind to you that aren't very bright that you don't feel bad about hunting, and which keep the rest of the population under control. Either that or it's all some big massive side-effect of stuff to do with their culture and hunting and that - the scary thing is that we really don't know enough yet.
I am on the way back inside and realise that zombies are definitely on the way, earlier than expected - and are already inside the compound. I mean, you should see what they've done to the Receptionist. The poor Receptionist has had that classic thing done to him that shows us that the aliens (and therefore zombies) are on their way - he has been instantly... crystallised?! - a horrible yellow-green colour, rictus-grinning and still with the phone to his ear.
I hurple on as quickly as possible to try to raise the alarm; still reasonably calm but somewhat concerned, not to say at some level scared beyond reason (the reason for my leg?). My heart is pumping hard, I feel cold, and my body seems to be gearing up towards a controlled state of panic. I know, you see, exactly what comes next if we can't fight it off. And we may well just not be able to fight it off...
Ahead of me, through double doors, two (American) soldiers stand, sweeping hand-guns around in a jittery manner. They clearly know already about the incursion. They see/ hear me, and swing to bear on my approaching form.
"Stand down," I call out reassuringly.
They fail to move.
"Stand down, soldiers, I have more than adequate clearance!"
I think: Christ, son, have you ever known a zombie that could speak?!
"Sorry, ma'am, but zombies..."
"I know - I saw the Receptionist. But I'm not..."
"You were lurching, ma'am."
"Limping." I'm really annoyed now. "The word is limping." Cretins.