A bad dream that turned into a nightmare

May 23, 2026 Features / Columnists, Peeping Tom

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(Kaieteur News) – There are people who dream about falling. Others dream about showing up to school late. I once dreamt that I was being chased through Bourda Market by a giant tax return.

But nothing prepared me for the dream I had recently about the proposed Development Bank — a bank so revolutionary, so daring, so spiritually detached from conventional banking that even Marx might have looked at it and said, “This feels financially irresponsible.”

It began innocently enough.

I was standing outside a magnificent glass building with giant gold letters spelling out: THE PEOPLE’S DEVELOPMENT BANK. There was no security guard, because apparently distrust is colonial. The doors opened automatically, not through sensors, but through optimism.

Inside, the atmosphere was extraordinary. No tellers. No loan officers. No accountants. Just motivational posters. One said: “Collateral Is Violence.” Another declared: “Repayment Is a Social Construct.”

A young man wearing slippers and an expression of complete economic freedom approached the counter. “I would like a loan,” he said.

“How much?” asked the smiling bank manager.

“Three million dollars.”

“What business are you starting?”

“I’m still spiritually exploring that.”

“Excellent,” said the manager. “Approved.”

I immediately knew something was wrong.

Then a public servant arrived. He explained that he had no business experience, no business plan, and was already overwhelmed trying to operate Microsoft Excel.

“Wonderful!” shouted the bank manager. “You are exactly the kind of entrepreneur we seek.”

Approved again.

At this point, I became uneasy because even in dreams I possess a primitive attachment to mathematics. My subconscious may be neurotic, but it still believes numbers should eventually add up.

Then I noticed something peculiar. Nobody was repaying loans. In fact, repayment itself was considered slightly offensive. A customer who attempted to make an installment payment was escorted outside and asked not to bring “capitalist negativity” into the building.

Soon the bank became wildly popular.

People borrowed money for chicken farms, barber shops, beauty salons, fishing boats, a karaoke empire, and one man who requested financing to “find himself” in Barbados for six months. The bank approved everything. Their slogan became: “Dream Big — The Treasury Is Paying.”

Then things became stranger.

The bank introduced a new financial instrument called the “Confidence-Based Loan.” You no longer needed income verification. You simply stared deeply into the eyes of the loan officer and promised you believed in yourself.

Entire lines formed around the block.

I remember seeing one gentleman leave the bank with two million dollars to open a goat yoga retreat in Berbice. Another received financing for a mobile car wash business despite not owning a vehicle, water hose, or soap. Nobody seemed concerned.

The atmosphere became euphoric. Economists disappeared mysteriously.

Then came the first board meeting.

The chairman entered the room sweating profusely while carrying what appeared to be a flamethrower and several folders labeled NON-PERFORMING LOANS.

“We have a slight problem,” he announced.

Apparently, the repayment rate had fallen to three percent, though the board remained optimistic because they considered anything above zero to be “encouraging.”

One director suggested the bank offer additional loans to customers unable to repay previous loans. This idea was praised as “innovative financial recycling.”

Another proposed that since collateral was oppressive, perhaps arithmetic itself should also be abolished. At this point in the dream the ceiling fan began spinning violently, which in dreams usually means civilization is ending.

Suddenly the newspapers arrived with catastrophic headlines:

DEVELOPMENT BANK REPORTS LOSSES

TREASURY ‘MONITORING SITUATION’

GOVERNMENT REMAINS CONFIDENT

That last sentence terrified me most because governments become “confident” precisely when citizens should begin worrying.

Soon the bank’s condition deteriorated. Employees stopped using calculators because the numbers were depressing morale. One official explained on television that profits were an outdated colonial metric and that the bank should instead be evaluated on “emotional empowerment.”

Then came the inevitable press conference. The Minister announced that although the bank had encountered “minor liquidity vibrations,” everything remained under control. To demonstrate confidence, the government injected another US$200 million into the institution — which in the dream appeared literally as a giant sack of cash being dropped from a helicopter onto the roof.

But the nightmare was only beginning.

One morning I dreamt the bank had quietly been sold to a mysterious consortium. They said it was a syndicated consortium. Nobody seemed entirely certain who owned it now, only that the new executives wore expensive suits and spoke with suspiciously foreign accents.

The same bank that began as a people’s revolution in finance was suddenly charging fees for breathing near the ATM.

Former borrowers wandered the streets in confusion.

“What happened to solidarity?” one man cried while trying unsuccessfully to refinance his goat yoga retreat.

The new owners simply smiled.

“Business,” they said.

And then, in the final horrifying moment of the dream, I saw a billboard outside the former People’s Development Bank. The old slogan was gone.

In giant letters it now read:

“PRIVATE OWNERSHIP: DEVELOPING PROFITS SINCE 2027.”

I woke up immediately, drenched in sweat and clutching my pillow like a man who had just seen the national budget audited by Kafka.

Naturally, I told myself it was only a dream. An absurd hallucination brought on by late-night coffee, fried rice, and excessive exposure to economic policy announcements.

Still, I have to admit: ever since that dream, whenever I hear the words “interest-free loans with no collateral,” I instinctively check whether my wallet is still in my pocket.

The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of this newspaper

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• Bourda Market, Development Bank, nightmare, Peeping Tom

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