Requiem for a Gnarly Dream.

I had the craziest dream the other night. It was something else. Messed. Up.

Let me tell you how this relates to World of Warcraft, and you might learn a little about me in the telling. Before we get into the dream itself, you know about something else that's happening in my life right now.

I'm quitting smoking.


Inorite? I'm using the Patch for this, and "Vivid Dreams" was listed as one of the many possible side effects. They mentioned nothing of the super-surreal-acid-in-the-mushroom-coke-brownie manga dreams I had just the other night.

This is a close as I can make myself
post a Human on my Blog.

The Dream

So here I am. I am a Paladin.

Clearly it was a dream, because I was Human. Weird, right? Human... sorry I digress.

So I'm a Paladin, and along with many other Paladins, (whom looked very much like an assortment of co-workers and friends of mine) I'm fighting the 'Shadow'. Spooky stuff, I guess. Words cannot describe our determination and commitment to overcome the awe and dread brought on by the 'Shadow', whatever the 'Shadow' might be.

Besides, well.. those words. And stuff. Again I digress.

So here I am, a Paladin, with many other Paladins, and we're fighting the 'Shadow'. We all have the sickest looking black platemail armour. With the spikes and the shiny and the spikes and the awesome. And we have weapons, mine being this giant bastard sword with runes that Smites like Mjolnir and Shines like Justice. Or a lightsaber. And we have horses. Totally badass black war stallions of death, with the glowing red eyes and the nostrils with the steam and the spikes. That is to say, everyone has these horses but one poor, wretched soul.

Me.

omfg I can't ride this thing.

I have a pony. She is brown and disappointing.

/sadpandaridingabrownponyofdisapoint

So I'm a Paladin, a Warcraft Paladin, warrior of the Light with all the super skills of buttkickery needed to tackle the 'Shadow', of which I think is nearby, and requires an examination by Doctor Light-Brings-the-Pain-Points! (pssst... that's me) Basically I have no idea what this 'Shadow' is up to or where I can reach them to deliver the Light or whatever. It's like most dreams, in that they feel no desire to explain themselves to little ol' me.

If there is a narrator of my dreams, he is disgustingly lazy, like this pony. Digress.exe

So as a Paladin I do know that it is imperative that I impart onto the 'Shadow' some justice and fare-thee-well-thanks-for-the-wonderful-evening-thunderclap-to-the-face back kicks. But I cannot do this from the saddle of my faithful unsatisfactory steed, Mr. Crappony. I need to find a new mount before I can go off into battle, for victory and sweet phat lootz. Drops like the World has never seen before, and battles like the world has seen lots of times in films such as Lord of the Rings and Star Wars and Saving Private Ryan. Sweet.

That last one, the part where the Sarge gets a bullet right in the buttocks and dies and stuff is really sad. Very much like my depressing pony. Digression.org

Fun Fact: Phat is spelled correctly, Lootz is not. Go-go wavy red line.


So I'm this Paladin, in a dream I had just the other night. I have the sorriest excuse for a pony, ever, and I'm more than certain at this point (in the dream) there is a ribbon tied in a bow, of the saddest red hue. On the pony. The bow looks dyed from the tears of the glowing red eyes of the uber leet warhorses my now long gone companions are riding. Without me. Into battle against the 'Shadow'.

I am Paladin. Lonely and riding a dumb little pony. To add salt to the wound, I also am certain that I will not be getting another mount. I think that I might have wondered upon something really cool to ride, like a Dragon or a Zombie-Giraffe, only to have lost it. I don't know. It seems to me that sometimes dreams skip ahead a few episodes within the same dream sequence and you, as the dreamer, are supposed to just 'keep up'. I feel a sense of loss and deep regret. I look at the pony with a mix of pity and scorn.

It's at these times I think the narrator has quit, or is taking a goddam nap. Or smoking brownies. What. Ev's. I think I might thoroughly dislike this pony. Nope, wait, I'm pretty sure. Diggity-di-gr-gr-gr-gression baby.

Hello? Pony, are you there?

So I'm this pathetic pony riding human Paladin of Pain Points and hopelessness. Screw the 'Shadow', I don't care. They can do whatever they want. Let Luke fracking Skywalker deal with them. He has an R2 unit and an X-wing Starfighter. All I got is this mule. LOOK AT HIM! No, the donkey. Seriously look. AMFG he makes me puke in my mouth a little bit. I think I will strangle him with that fracking rose hued ribbon. I bet that thing can't protect him from my de-buffs. Douchebags. To hell with this, I'm outta here.

Stupid camel-pony. Stoopid narrator.

I hate him.

The Moral


Don't rage on bad loot rolls.