You know how sometimes you have a dream that just sticks? Not like a regular weird dream about flying or whatever, but one that feels loud. It was maybe six months ago. I remember waking up soaking wet, heart hammering. The whole room felt cold. This wasn’t just a dream, it was a whole-ass warning, except I didn’t know what it was warning me about.
I usually mess around with Tarot, you know, just small three-card pulls for fun or when I feel stuck on some stupid decision like what takeout to order. But this time? This dream demanded the deck. I couldn’t ignore it. It was too intense. I
knew I had to pull out the big guns.
I dragged myself to the table, shuffling the old Rider-Waite deck, hands actually shaking. I felt sick just thinking about what I might see.
The Setup: Pulling the Cards After the Nightmare
I didn’t go for a standard layout. This was serious. I decided on a seven-card spread that I usually save for when the sky is literally falling. It starts with the core problem, then the immediate influence, the obstacle, the goal, the resource, the outside perspective, and finally, the actual outcome if I kept going down the current road. I laid them out, and man, the first three cards were a punch to the gut. The vibe was instant chaos.
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Card 1 (Core Problem): The Tower. Yeah, right out of the gate. A total shattering. I immediately thought, ‘Oh crap, is my apartment building going to burn down?’ I was looking for external disaster.
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Card 2 (Immediate Influence): Nine of Swords. That classic picture of someone sitting up in bed, stress everywhere. That was accurate. That was me waking up from the dream, sweating bullets.
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Card 3 (The Obstacle): The Hermit. This card really threw me off. Loneliness? Isolation? I just sat there staring. What was that old dude with the lantern doing in my chaos spread? I usually read The Hermit as needing alone time or introspection. But in this context, it felt like my inability to see the problem clearly.
I looked at The Tower and Nine of Swords and figured okay, something bad is coming, and I’m going to stress about it. I packed the deck up, feeling validated but not helped. I tried to just forget it. I spent the next week just waiting for the disaster to hit. I was checking for leaks, backing up my hard drive, canceling travel plans. I was convinced it was going to be an external shock. That was my practice record for that week:
Obsessive and totally wrong.
The Real-World Event: Not an External Collapse, But a Self-Shattering
Then, the real hit came, and it wasn’t a fire. It was about my job. I’d been working for this small outfit for three years, busting my butt, getting paid less than I was worth because I was comfortable, you know? That comfort was killing me, but I rationalized it daily. I convinced myself stability was worth the anxiety.
What actually happened was this: The CEO, this guy I used to really look up to, announced an office “re-org.” Sounds harmless, right? Nope. He started bringing in this hotshot consultant who knew nothing about our product but loved using jargon. I spent three weeks trying to explain my work process, only to be told my whole pipeline was “inefficient” and that I needed to “synergize with the cloud team.” Total nonsense. It was clear they were pushing me out without actually firing me, hoping I’d just walk.
I didn’t just walk. I went into that CEO’s office, slammed my keyboard on his desk—I mean,
I really slammed that thing
—and told him exactly what I thought of his consultant and his whole “re-org.” I didn’t quit, I detonated. I literally packed my gear right then and there. I remember walking out the door, the whole office silent, and feeling this sudden, complete relief. My old life, my comfort, my anxiety—it all just shattered.
The Real Meaning Explained: It Wasn’t About Waiting, It Was About Action
I got home, poured a huge glass of something strong, and the memory of the Tarot pull hit me like a truck. I pulled the cards out again, spread them on the floor, and suddenly, the whole damn meaning flipped.
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The Tower: It wasn’t about the building falling down. It was about my structure, the one I had built around my comfortable, underpaid existence, finally getting smashed.
I had to be the lightning bolt.
The dream wasn’t a warning of a coming event; it was a demand for my own internal demolition.
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Nine of Swords: The anxiety wasn’t about the disaster itself. The stress was because
I already knew I needed to leave that job
but refused to let myself admit it. The dream forced the stress to a level I couldn’t ignore.
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The Hermit: The obstacle wasn’t isolation. The obstacle was my
refusal to look within myself and admit the truth.
I was hiding from the simple fact that I was miserable. The Hermit was there to say: dude, slow down, go inside, and see the reality you are avoiding.
That’s the real lesson, the thing you absolutely need to see. Tarot cards, especially when tied to a powerful dream, they aren’t always showing you what is going to happen to you. They often show you
what you absolutely must do
to avoid staying stuck. The real dream meaning about Tarot isn’t in the book interpretation; it’s in the action it forces you to take. It’s the universe screaming at you to break down the walls you built around yourself. I lost a job and gained my clarity, all thanks to a nightmare and three pieces of cardboard.
