Dreams A–Z

A small jar filled with blinking fireflies: captured light, preserved wonder, a fragile container of guidance and memory.

A candle flame that stutters, dims, or flares while you watch, sometimes going out and relighting; intimate, fragile light.

Your inner home is processing a surge of feeling—old waters rising to cleanse, reveal leaks, and ask for better containers.

Rising and moving through the air with ease or effort; a sense of freedom, overview, and testing limits.

A threshold symbol signaling choices, boundaries, and the moment between what has been and what’s next.

A luminous, brass compass whose needle glows gold; points not just north but toward values, purpose, or a next step.

A dream about golf points to aim, technique, social rhythm, and how you measure progress—small swings toward a larger goal.

Gliding across a frozen surface: balance between ease and vulnerability, motion across emotional terrain.

A heavy iron key in a dream often feels weighty and familiar — a tool of access, boundary and chosen passage. It carries craft, history, and the charge to open or to keep closed.

Shifting patterns reveal how your mind recombines memories, feelings, and choices into fresh perspectives.

A sink as a locus of water, waste, cleaning and small domestic work — overflowing, clogged, shining or full of dishes.

A maze of corridors, turning paths, dead ends and a central chamber; tactile stone, dim light, and a steady sense of searching.

A lake in a dream points to still, held emotions and a boundary between conscious shore and unconscious depths.

A procession of people carrying lanterns through darkness — small lights creating a shared path and rhythm.

You are inside a sealed room — doors or windows refuse to open; you search, probe walls, sometimes find a small clue or a hidden panel.

A small, often metal pendant that opens to hold a keepsake — a bridge between past memory and present feeling.

A solitary beacon on a coast, light cutting through fog while you watch or climb; the structure both protects and calls.

Straightening sheets, smoothing blankets, tucking corners — a small, domestic act that organizes space and calms attention.

A sumptuous ballroom where faces are hidden by masks: shifting identities, music, close dances, and moments of reveal.

Walking beneath a silver moon through an orchard of heavy, glowing fruit; quiet harvest, a watching animal, and returning with a full basket.

A dream of standing unclothed on a stage, visible and unshielded before an audience — a raw encounter with being seen, judged, and invited to perform your truth.

A rain-slick metropolis lit by humming neon—slick streets, mirrored facades, hovering signs and elevators between levels; feels both inviting and disorienting.

A raised, circular place for watching the sky — telescopes, domes, ladders and wide windows; a space of distance and focused seeing.

A black, glassy doorway that appears as a threshold — protective, secretive, and transformative; it asks whether you will open, honor, or close it.