Dreams of Poverty

I don’t usually have nightmares, but I recently have been. They aren’t dark, as if I’m being chased down dark alleys, but more mundane, which makes them more frightening to me. Recently, I dreamt I’d accidentally left my garage door open and everything was missing – had been stolen – when I walked outside. Oh, the dream could merely be because we do sometimes accidentally leave the garage door open and think, “Damn. I can’t believe no one came in and took anything.” But this dream was more frightening. Everything had been taken. The garage was empty.

There’s a dark emptiness that remains even after waking.

Can anything be more symbolic of living so paycheck-to-paycheck that you feel like a frog jumping from unstable lily pad to another – sometimes landing a little hard and sinking  a little low in the water (that would be your bank account going negative) before jumping to the next a week later. Constantly worried that the next lily pad will be yanked away at the last minute and you drown.

I can’t even imagine the dreams of those in long-term poverty. I wonder if they’re as bad, or if you become used to it as a fact of life and not something on which your subconscious focuses. That’s even sadder, though. As if they already live at the bottom of the mountain’s cliff on which you’re teetering. There is nothing to fall from for them. Just more ways to be beaten down into the ground. And politicians and businesspeople are creating new hammers all the time.

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