Zombie Bear Apocalypse?

So, according to David Davis a hard Brexit won't result in in the UK turning into a Mad Max style post apocalyptic wasteland.  Which was a pretty strange thing to say, as nobody had actually suggested that it would.  I certainly don't remember it being mentioned as an option by the 'Leave' side during the referendum.  I might have voted to leave if I'd thought that there was a chance that we'd all end up driving weird and wonderful V8 powered custom cars around the place at will, firing guns in the air, wearing black leather and sporting wild hairstyles.  But, strangely, I don't recall Michael Gove ever mentioning such a possibility.  Still, it is interesting that even an arch leaver like Davis thinks that many people think that Brexit will be an apocalypse on the lines of a nuclear holocaust or zombie uprising.  Not that these are the only types of apocalypse which might befall us all.  Now, I don't know whether it has anything to do with any of the various medications I'm currently taking, but lately I've been experiencing some especially vivid, and occasionally disturbing, dreams.  Most unusually, I actually remember quite a few details of them when I awake, wherwas usually they quickly fade from memory.

Anyway, in last night's I seemed to be caught up in some kind of apocalypse, running around deserted streets and buildings with an ever changing group of fellow survivors.  What we were all running from and what had caused all the devastation remains unclear, although at one point some bears were involved. Whether it was some kind of zombie bear apocalypse, or whether they were incidental to the main threat, I don't recall.  The most vivid part of the dream that I can remember involved me kicking in some doors and barricades to effect an escape from some bears via an abandoned house.  When I reached the street on the other side, I looked around and the others had disappeared.  I looked for them, but there as no sign of them.  When I went back to the street I suddenly and inexplicably found myself on a moving train with a different group of survivors, although I recognised their seeming leader from somewhere.  They seemed to know me.  Looking out of the window of the train, I saw we were running parallel to a river and I glimpsed two exhausted looking giants duking it out on its edge.  Perhaps it they were the cause of the apocalypse.  Then I woke up.

The other dreams haven't been quite as bizarre.  One, which was deeply disturbing, involved me witnessing an especially brutal murder.  Thankfully, I don't remember too many details of that one.  Another started at some kind of family party in an old house and proceeded to encompass a trip to some extensive catacombs below the house, where secret and half-forgotten rooms housed all manner of artifacts.  In one there was an extremely well preserved old-style mail coach, for instance.  Yet another dream involved all sorts of antics at a pub.  Not my usual local pub interestingly.  Not only did it look anything like my local, either inside or out, but it also seemed to be near the sea.  Everyone kept calling the landlord 'Twatty'.  Whether that was a proper name, a nickname or a description, I don't know.  I'm left wondering what tonight will bring - David Davis' Brexit apocalypse, perhaps?