At one point I was running for my life from a dragon. The next after a short splitting headache, I was standing in front of a sign that read "Welcome to the land of Bad Characters."
Was I sent here by the dragon? Or, perhaps the elves took me away from the battle using some of their unholy magic. The land of bad characters could be a place for humans that the elves don't like, I reasoned. After pondering in this direction for a while, I decided that it must have been the elves. No other explanation seemed likely.
There was one other explanation that crossed my mind, but it is so absurd, an explanation that defied all reasonableness. It was so strange that it must have been a fragment of a dream that I had long since forgotten. However, if it was a dream, it came back with such clarity.
I, Vilhelm, was a character in a fiction story, my life created by another individual. I interacted with other characters, but they were creations of yet other people, authors if you will. And, yet, my creator had been absent for a while, leaving my details to everyone else.
I even got the impression that the reason for my being, for my very existence, had been put into question. I was on a journey, but the purpose of the journey was no longer clear, the complexities of relationships and a crowded nature of characters exhausting the life out of someone's creativity.
There were some structures off in the distance. Having no other course, I headed in that direction, all the while trying to shake the feeling that I wasn't a real person. I wanted to blame the elves, and I kept telling myself that the dream was just that - a dream.
"I must have hit my head," I said aloud at one point. From that point on, I was able to forget the dream. Finally I came to the structures I had seen by the sign. I entered one that appeared to be occupied.
"Did the elves send you here, too?" I asked, only to have everyone look at me with puzzled looks on their faces.