I was in some kind of arena with stadium seating, just sitting in the bleachers waiting for something to happen. A bunch of other people were gathered there seeking haven from zombies. Suddenly, the hoard descends upon us and everyone scatters. I’m thinking, “I don’t know how to hide from a zombie. Can they smell me? Are they just dead idiots running around, or are they truly sophisticated predators? Whatever, I’ma just try to outsmart them.” I was not in a state of terror - in fact, I felt especially sober-minded and solemn. I grabbed this bag of weed I’d been guarding and went off looking for a sufficient place to hide it from the zombies. All around me, zombies were running up the stadium stairs attacking people. A man who’d been bitten was addressed, “Do you remember the promise?”, and he promptly flung himself from an upper tier and ended his life before the mutation set in. I found my way outside, to the edge of a lake where a few old cars were parked. Most of them were broken down, and people were hiding laying down flat and still against the floorboard. I got into a car and 3 people were already inside. I sat in the backseat, beside my friend William, and we drove away. The next thing I know, I’m looking for the bag of weed I hid in the glove compartment of the car, but it’s gone. I’m sitting in an outdoor auditorium listening to some dude give a rallying speech to the survivors of the zombie attack. I was in a city, somewhat of a mash-up between New York City and Nuremberg, Germany - except that it was hilly, we were on a hill. The speaker proclaimed this new land “Nashville”. Orange liquid crossed my mind. Suddenly, down below, we watched as another hoard approached from a distance. Everyone got up and started running around, frantically trying to find a safe place to hide or escape. I decided to stay outside in the open, figuring that way I’d have more freedom of movement. I crouched down behind a golden statue of 3 angels holding trumpets and waited.