I’m afraid of zombies. I mean, crap your pants while gibbering in terror afraid. (I know it’s completely irrational. I never claimed to be sane.) My friend gave me a book of zombie haiku, and it gave me nightmares. And zombie movies? Forget about it. I slept with my katana for weeks.
My therapist says that my aversion to the walking dead stems from a fear of losing my faculties to insanity or senility. I say it comes from not wanting some brain-munching bastard to take a chunk out of me while I’m still alive and screaming.
I suppose the whole fear of losing my mind idea has merit.
But I’m still sleeping with my katana.