That's subjective. Death, ghosts, wretched little archer monks that I need to rip apart slowly and without any use of anesthetic so I can hear them scream more, throat-stab escape mechanisms, Bounts that were a waste of time and one of my arms, ghost scythes that entirely wipe out memories when ghost sliced through one's head, and potentially catastrophic betrayals of society as a whole, as you know it.
I also know you're here, Gin, you backstabbing maggot. Still smiling and acting stupider than you actually are, like nothing is amiss. Continue to keep your distance or I'll eviscerate you, sew you back together, and then do it over again, followed by hacking you apart at the limbs and systematically grinding down the pieces while keeping you barely alive to watch, until you're nothing but mulch!
...as well as any other things of that tedious ilk or nature. My my. It's all so very troublesome, these latest developments. It's keeping me from my other projects.
I don't know precisely what others are seeing in their mind's eye, but I can say the psyche is a veritable playground as far as those dark turns and nightmares are concerned. My current hypothesis is that there is some geological electro-magnetic anomaly perhaps related to tectonic plates that is causing synapses to misfire during the REM stages of sleep. If this is happening, then I mean to dissect it figure it out. I need volunteers. Preferably Of the willing variety. There will be medical testing involved, since that is one of my primary specialties.
I also need to figure it all out without further mutilating myself in the process. Self-trephination is such a pain. Literally and figuratively. Mostly in a literal sense.