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.
I was in some research facility underground. It seemed to be both military (lots of security) and university (lots of students). The lights flickered out at some point. Creatures that fed on human blood (which I never actually saw) had escaped their holding tanks and were pursuing. There was just a mass panic of screaming and crowds rushing in all directions.
I was a boy wizard going to a wizard school. The dream was certainly Harry Potter inspired, but the school and its staff more resembled schools from my life and from other fiction than from the HP universe.
I was accused of a particular crime by a faculty member that I never knew what it was. It was a crime so severe, and the accusing authority was so trusted, that my fate to be punished for it was absolute. Nobody believed in my innocence, including my (not IRL) parents, who were part of the process for conditioning me for my punishment. I got this sense that my crime was not one of doing but one of being – like perhaps I was discovered to be the reincarnation of some evil demon or whatever.
People pitied me more than anything. They did not hate me, but I could not run free, and while my parents and others empathized, they were certain of my guilt and would not allow me to roam freely.
There is a vampire and a man in a mansion or castle. The man is an artist.
The dream was about confronting evil, and fighting it. The man becomes a slave of the vampire, is controlled by him. His mind degrades and his journals become less and less coherent. His art becomes more like stock art, collage from reused items. I think he becomes anorexic at this point.
There was a city on a massive boat. The entire ship was a self-contained city. Possibly it was the only city left. It was also a very hierarchical society where the rich ruled with a political philosophy that basically said they could do anything because they were rich, and the ruling elite had no obligation to help out anyone else. The rich deserved to be rich, the poor deserved to be poor.
I was a scullion, or an aspiring young chef or something. I was poor, possibly a homeless orphan. I needed to make good food to achieve my goals, but I didn’t have the ingredients. I went to steal eggs and suchlike in a reputable chef’s kitchen. To avoid being spotted at one point I hid above a door, using the door frame to support myself between the door and the ceiling.
Outside of a school, where kids slid up and down these ramps somehow and had lots of fun. I joined them for a bit. I knew some people who were telling me that their teenage daughter was going to marry some older guy. It was a marriage they had arranged for her – they were part of some sort of modern religion that allowed that sort of thing. The guy had apparently showed up in their community and not long after had asked them if he could marry their daughter. He was a sort of tough biker type guy, but friendly and nice.
Lived at the old High Park house from a few years ago, but with my family. I entered the livingroom one morning to find all the furniture in the entire house shifted to a big mass in the center of the room.
My father had decided to renovate. He did not discuss this with anyone, even though it would involve a severe inconvenience to all and we might even be required to contribute (this vague awareness that I did pay rent at the house that was the basis of this dream probably supplied this impression). This annoyed me. I was further upset by finding all kinds of disgustingness, including a mangled skunk/crow carcass in the toilet, which I for some reason decided to move to the stovetop, perhaps to cleanse with fire.