What should I read next?

I can't tell if this is sarcastic or not. I don't really like mysteries or thrillers unless the element is also added into a grand mixture of other, more heart-breaking/thought-provoking ideas. 

I'm afraid to read any Arthur C. Clarke because of Rendezvous with Rama, one of the most boring and dramatically-bereft books I've ever had the displeasure of reading. I know he had his hand in 2001 and all that, but Rendezvous with Rama hurt my soul. It really did.

And on the mentioning of Asimov - I really liked I, Robot. I thought it was great, but then I read Foundation. Why would I need foundation when I have the Dune series? Dune took the concepts and drove them to their extreme, nearly dystopic conclusions. It had deep religious, political, psychological, genetic, and sociological overtones, all while telling a rather brutal, open-minded family-tree story warped with its head upside-down. In comparison, Foundation just seems like 'another neat-o sci-fi adventure'. 

Plus I tried reading The Gods, Themselves, and got a little sick-headed. But hey, like I said, I'm pretty picky. It's not that I always cater to 'classics', but I'm not into horrors or thrillers, action-packed westerns or zombies or monsters. I could care less about romance novels. I like psychological terror like a few Poe short stories (before he got wrapped up in silly tales about sea-storms and hound-of-baskervilles-styled gorilla murder mysteries and long-winded descriptions).

To kinda show where I'm coming from, I hate the hell out of Mary Shelley's Frankenstein. Of course it's a mystical, deranged, grisly tale about not reading a book by its cover. But once you think about it, considering the book isn't a horror at all, then people have been judging it erroneously by its cover for ages. Hated the writing style, couldn't stand the simplicity of the plot, really would've liked it if it'd been forty pages long. And that's a 'classic'. Hey, I hate Atlas Shrugged, too. Love Anthem, though. I suppose it's all in what I'm looking for in literature. I chiefly desire books that will rip my heart to shreds and force my mind into deep bouts of contemplation, all without spending hundreds of pages describing the weather or an oaken desk.