I Visited The Wathen Estate in Scotland (In A Dream) and All I Got Was This Fungus

Well, I did it -- in my dream, that is. I made the journey across the Atlantic to visit my ancestral lands—also known as “Plot #47203-2340-C” in a windswept corner of nowhere in Scotland.

After two connecting flights, one questionable meat pie, and a rental car that smelled like wet dog and defeat, I arrived. There it was: The Wathen Kingdom. All two square feet of it! Slightly sloped, moderately muddy. Smelled faintly of peat and sheep regret.

The tree—my one living subject—looked about as enthusiastic as I felt. It was barely two feet tall with a slight lean that suggests it’s either growing or giving up. Hard to tell in that cold, foggy climate.

I stood there for a solid 139 seconds, pondering the legacy of Lord Wathen, before my shoes started to sink into the moss and a local sheep farmer drove by, gave me a somewhat suspicious look, and just kept on going. Probably assumed I was lost. Well -- he wasn’t wrong.

In total:

  • Time spent traveling: 16 hours

  • Time spent at my estate: 7 minutes

  • Time spent at the nearest pub afterward: 4 hours

  • Souvenirs acquired: One fungal rash, a rock, and an existential crisis

There was no fanfare. No ceremonial bagpipes. No local council presenting me with a key to this mossy bog plot. Just me, a tree, and a vague sense that I had willingly participated in one of the greatest marketing grifts of the 21st century.

And you know what? I’d do it all again. Because in a world where everything’s fake, at least I own my delusion.  But next time I'm going to download a bagpipe music app before my trip... data is expensive there!

Long live the two square feet!

—Lord Wathen
Land Baron, Tree Whisperer, Part-Time World Traveler in My Dreams

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