Some dreams can be so vivid, accurate and real, that when we awaken it takes a moment or two to get our bearings and come back to normality.
Sometimes we don’t want to wake up and prefer to stay in this lovely place where we only have to wish for it to happen.
Or are our dreams tangents of parallel lives we may have led if we had decided differently. Now there lies food for thought.
I once knew a car mechanic who stripped down and rebuilt a car engine in his sleep.
When I made my first (and only) lemon meringue pie, I was whisking the egg whites as I slept, or at least going through the motions, nearly blacking the eye of The Now Ex.
When I’m stressed out about anything, Old Faithful (the Loo dream) rears itself as some sub conscious inner warning to take note, sort it, and relieve the pressure.
I’ve had dreams about my school days and becoming a member of The Sixth Form at my current age (yikes!).
I’ve dreamed of music, poetry, people known to me and not, dogs, giving birth (I honesty expected to find a baby in the bed after that one!), had nightmares about demons, cellars and being alone, but as far as I can recall, dreams about my actual work have been few and yet the other night, I was back at work.
Not the last job I did (dog kennels), the one before (museum) or the one before that which I left in 2007 when I ‘retired’.
I was dreaming about my payments processing days in Banking around 1990-1996.
What was so weird was that I could clearly see the colour of the documentation, the amounts concerned (lots of £/$ 000s), and actually remember the identification codes and internal account numbers for each currency to debit in order to credit the client!
I always hated to see the word ‘only’ on a cheque in those days as it was an instant ‘in-your-face’ insult to us lowly processing clerks on a meagre wage when our clients only had to ring home to Daddy and ask him to turn the tap up on the oil well when they got low on cash.
The figures just weren’t real, and the amounts of money lost gambling were more than I’d earn in 10 years (and that’s before taxes!).
Yeah, we could all do with a little bit extra perhaps, but Real Life is living within your means, not poaching on someone else’s. However, some people have no concept of money as they have never been without or had to worry about paying bills or where the next penny would come from.
Most of us at the lowest end of the income bracket would say we are richer in other things, but as Hubby often says, it’s the privilege of the Poor to say that.
We are actually doing OK in that we have a roof over our heads, are warm and dry, have food in our bellies, clothes on our backs, shoes on our feet *, and we don’t owe a penny to a soul. If we can’t afford it, we don’t have it. Simple.
Having oodles of money doesn’t impress me or make me think you’re a better individual.
Judging from this article in the Daily Mail, being loaded doesn’t bring you happiness either.
Wonder who he banks with then?
* Another post coming up on another news article today.