I had a dream where there was something in our culture existed that everyone else loved but I hated. It was a combination of World of Warcraft, Game of Thrones and Settles of Catan – some sort of fantasy thing that at any given time seemed to be a different kind of media. I remember I hated it so intensely that it made me perpetually angry. Everything that reminded me of it sent me into a miserable rage. I wanted so much to destroy it, to diminish it in people’s eyes, because it made me an outcast in a way that I could not comprehend.
The only thing I really remember of it was playing it once and finding a village at night. But the characters that we played were as large as the houses of the village. (This was probably because of the videogame tendency to have characters and settings mismatch each other in size, like how in the original Warcraft the units were almost as big as an entire farm, not to mention my subconscious’ usual inability to portray scale properly.) We wanted to spend the night at the village but had to camp outside.
That’s basically it.
(This is probably inspired by my lack of comprehension of the appeal of World of Warcraft despite enjoying videogames and the strategy games in that series that preceded it, as well as my not being that into Game of Thrones. I like GoT, I just don’t love it, and could never imagine investing the time to read those massive books like everyone else seems to have. My being angry about other people enjoying things that I don’t reflects my real-world reaction to these sorts of situations – though in real life I realize this reaction makes no sense and I do my best to not show this frustration and try to look past it.)