Dreams as Metaphor

Most dreams come and go, without any need for introspection. But then, one (or two) come in the night and you wake up feeling perplexed because the message seems to be one of missing the mark.

I woke up about 4 am, after having a ‘banking dream’. I’d been hired on as a clearing clerk to take over from someone who had walked away from the job. Literally, all I needed to do was make sure that the cash was counted and the cheques were cleared after deposits were made to different bank accounts.

What made this ‘interesting’ was the recruitment process. I’d gone through a series of evaluations which, to my mind, were totally unusual. For example, a word was presented backward and upside down, with a number of possible endings and the task was to interpret the result, without turning the page upright.

The bank manager spoke with me and I told him how different that recruitment process was. He said that he hadn’t realized the recruiters methods, and did they bother me? I said, no, because I enjoy solving puzzles. He said, “Great, you’ll do very well here.”

Then I woke again 4 hours later, after going through yet another assessment process, this time at university. The ‘tests’ were two-fold: some you had to supervise others taking; and some you took yourself. The one I supervised (alongside another person) had to do with cooking food and preparing a hot dinner to serve a number of people. I feel hopeless at cooking, so I made a hash of the meal. I was sent out to receive some supplies from the loading gate and when I came back, the whole setup had been moved elsewhere and another process was in its place.

At that point, Shirley MacLaine came up to me and said that I was supposed to be two floors up taking an assessment on historical literature, The stairs were convoluted and noting that they came from Tudor times, I remarked that I wasn’t a Tudor. Then I stopped and said, “Yes, I am.” Ms. MacLaine told me that my phone assessment had been cancelled and that I should wait, to see if it could be rescheduled.

I sat down, feeling disconsolate. Ms. MacLaine sat with me and we discussed why I was feeling that way. I blurted out that I perhaps should quit the program completely and go out and get a job instead.

That’s where the dream ended.

So, my question is: was this a metaphor for my present life, with a hint at what my next life will be?