Civil War Zombie Attack, Virginia Beach North Bethune House Zombi Bug Attack, Filling Station Video Ambush, and how I redreamed every one of them.

I was awakened by a messenger from the division HQ. There was a valley 10 miles from where we were encamped with some unusual activity going on. A patrol had gone missing and I was to Recon and Rescue if possible. "Take your darkies and try not to screw it up." was the flavor of the message. I couldn't help notice that the valley was on a line almost 90 degrees from a march into the planned battle area. I was upset that, once again, my troops were being shuttled out of the way. I stepped out into the cool morning air, I could smell spring hiding out behind the grits and porkfat cooking. I called together my officers and seargents and revealed our orders. We all exchanged glances. I could tell my Lt's were actually relieved, they were both terrified of what the Confederate soldiers would do if we were to be captured. We knew it would be bad enough for our troopers, all black men in one of only three units of "colored" troopers. But some of the messages about what would happen to us officers was disturbing. My seargents, all black, felt differently. "We will get our chance, just not today." I said to prevent the usual arguments. "Stand'em up and lets go rescue those lollygaggers."
"Yes, Sir!" chorused the seargents, and we marched out. Only myself and the Lt's.s had horses. Even my dispatch riders were riding on their shoes. I at least had managed to get them shoes. Half of my troopers didn't have real boots, just whatever we could "requisition" from the towns we'd passed through. Some of my troop didn't have uniforms either, they were escaping north when they came across us. Some were so moved they stayed on to handle the kitchen and baggage train. I didn't have the heart to turn them away. I did make it plain that if they were caught or over run they could expect a gruesome death at the hands of their former owners, and that I could barely feed them let alone pay them. Still, they marched with us.
We reached the valley, more of a hollow it was so small, and still. That was the first bit of weirdness, it was spring and birds and insects had chirruped us a happy spring medley for almost ten miles. Now, nothing. The air was thick with a tinny smell that made the horses nervous. I dismounted and gave my horse to the first messenger, "Skirmish line in thirds, fall back to the loaders if there's anything to fire at." The messenger was off. Soon the LT's took up the left and right skirmish lines. I went to the front of the center skirmish line. We advanced into the hollow. I had the loaders hold at the tree line and took the first group down into the hollow. There were Confederate and Union bodies everywhere. All of them in ragged clothing, blood stained. Groups of soldiers were mixed together where they fell, no sign of weapons or packs. Only a few still had canteens or powder horns hanging from straps. I had the bugler signal a halt. Nothing.
The dead soldiers stood up. They were dead, that I could see. Some of my men swore, some fainted. A couple fired. Body hits did nothing, a head hit dropped the undead horror. They charged us and I tried to have us fall back to the tree line after the first volley. They were sinfully fast. Bayonets and rifle butts. They were slaughtering us in hand to hand combat and shooting them did no good, unless you hit them in the head. By the time I figured that out I had hacked so many limbs off with my saber that I could barely lift my arm, still more of them kept coming. My flanking support melted into the trees, I tried to get the message out to shoot for the head and just keep them from biting or clawing you, but my messengers were dragged out of their saddles. The tide of undead reeking flesh eventually bore me under.
I was awakened by a messenger from the division HQ. There was a valley 10 miles from where we were encamped with some unusual activity going on. A patrol had gone missing and I was to Recon and Rescue if possible. "Take your darkies and try not to screw it up." was the flavor of the message.
I sat bolt upright, my aide asked if I was alright. "We're alive yet, aren't we?" was my cryptic reply. I called my troops together and gave them some orders that I'm sure chilled them. But they went with me. Bayonets fixed. Loaders right behind, every one of us in a tight formation semi-circular like a plug in a bathtub. I gathered as many pitchforks and poles as possible. "Head shots only, or you don't even fire."
When the dead rose to greet us there was a sudden hush over the troops, they understood. "He knew it somehow, he knew it!" rippled through the ranks.
"Hush! Concentrate! Pray if you know how! But don't let them bite or scratch you, or I'll take your head off myself." I sent my Lt's to the left with orders to use the saber and lance to keep the flanks clear, I took the right with our standard bearer to do the same. We fought for what seemed like hours, the stench of the dead was great, when we were finished I called in the chaplain to say words over the piles of dead parts and we began digging graves. I sent the messengers back, "Many war dead, from both sides, unburied, unshriven, we'll be another day taking care of the formalities." was all I wrote. Over 300 dead when we finished.
"We've been to Hell together, men don't get any closer than that, said one of my seargents."
"Yes Mr. Sears, when this is over, every blessed one of you has a place at my table just for the asking." As tired as we were, not a single man, even the injured, complained about the 10 mile hike back to where I knew we would likely wait out the rest of the war.

Next I was in the house I remember best from growing up in Virginia. Upstairs. Strange cootie like bugs zoomed out of a wall socket in the hallway then went skittering down the hall into my siblings and parent's rooms. I caught the one headed for me in a glass jar and slapped the lid on it. As I was trying to figure out what it was my family began to walk towards me arms out in the classic zombie pose.
I was back in the hall, grabbed the glass jar and slammed it over the wall socket just as the bugs slithered out. I missed one and grabbed it in my folded up hankerchief. I struggled with it a bit and managed to wrestle it into the jar with the others. I screwed the lid on tight and went to wake everyone up. "We got to get away from here before the neighbors get bit!" I'm sure my parents would figure I was crazy, but hoped the odd bugs with human arms and legs would convince them otherwise.

Lastly I was filling up a new hybrid at a gas station where the price was $9.579 a gallon. There was a flatscreen monitor tuned to a live feed from soldiers in the forests of Lebanon. I saw the telltale red of a laser site hit the soldier in the chest who was center screen then there were dozens of shots and soldiers falling everywhere.
Dream restarted, by now I was not surprised. I linked in and sent an IM to the cameraman to get down and toss out the smoke grenades. The troopers dropped on the screen and smoke surrounded them. You could see the smoke particles fluoresced under the lasers of the ambushers, pointing back to their locations. Our troops opened fire and took only a few injuries.
I got an IM back. "Thanks for looking out for us."
One of the Gas station attendants looked at me and said, "How did you just do that?"
"Just lucky, I guess. Gotta look out for your former students."
"That Captain is a former student?"
"No, the camera woman is."

It was a very odd night. I was quite amazed when the first dream reopened, then a little with the second. The third I was just looking at it and thinking, OK, what is my brain trying to tell me.