I dreamt of a house that breathed like an old soul,
tucked behind tall wooden fences
that groaned and swayed in the wind
like aging trees trying to remember their roots.
Inside that hushed sanctuary, I lived with my husband and daughter.
We moved through quiet rituals,
our days held gently, like bird bones wrapped in silk.
One late afternoon, we stood on the back porch
as golden light poured through the slats of the fence,
cutting the air into slow-moving ribbons.
The world felt distant beyond the barrier,
soft and blurred, like a memory half-forgotten.
A neighbor stepped out from the shadow of the house,
his expression tender, almost reverent.
He asked if we had seen a small white puppy,
one that had slipped into the world unclaimed.
In the amber of memory, I saw it
a pale flash of fur darting past the hedges days ago
a flicker of life full of urgency and aimless joy.
assuming it belonged to someone
that it had a name, a place,
a hand waiting to scoop it up and carry it home.
believing that it knew where it was going.
Later, a group of children wandered up the path,
their voices breathless and thin,
woven with the kind of worry that only innocence can hold.
Have you seen it, they asked
and I felt a tremor move through me.
but mentioned the wild kudzu behind the church
where vines swallowed stone and secrets alike.
A place where things could disappear
The children exchanged glances
and in their silence, I began to feel it too.
The slow spread of unease
like dusk creeping into a quiet room.
and somewhere deep inside
regret bloomed like a bruise.
each moment folding into the next like soft fabric.
The search became a low hum beneath the dream
a sound you don’t hear so much as feel
in the hollow of your chest.
I stood once more on the porch
watching the wind stir the grass like a whisper.
the fence, our line of safety
leaning, breaking, surrendering.
He came and lifted the sagging wood
as if lifting a veil or a buried truth.
Beyond it, the world waited
and somehow lonelier than before.
his face radiant with joy
as though he had plucked a miracle from the mouth of loss.
But it was no longer a puppy.
It had grown tall and elegant
its coat a river of white curls
its eyes unknowable, ancient
carrying the kind of silence that speaks of miles traveled
our hearts swelling with wonder.
But it didn’t reach for us.
It stood with quiet dignity
like something sacred that could not be held.
No child came to claim it.
It stood in the space between belonging and wildness.
We told the man we couldn’t take it.
as if afraid of breaking something delicate.
We didn’t have the right.
and disappeared into the soft dark
Of course, Shonna. Let's explore the symbolism and emotional tone of the dream you described (the one with the white puppy growing into a poodle and returning, only to leave again). Here's a deeper interpretation:
1. The House and the Tall Wooden Fences
The home represents your inner world—your family, your creative space, your sanctuary. The tall fences suggest boundaries you’ve built to protect your peace or privacy, possibly emotional defenses or protective instincts as a mother and partner. But those boundaries aren’t impenetrable—they begin to fall later in the dream, which is significant.
White often symbolizes purity, potential, innocence, or something spiritually significant. The puppy could represent:
A lost part of yourself—something from your past (childhood, motherhood, your artistic self) that was overlooked or let go.
A dream or responsibility you once saw but didn’t claim, assuming it would find its own way.
Even an unspoken grief or emotional thread that slipped past your awareness.
You saw it, but didn’t go after it—this suggests a moment of quiet regret or missed opportunity. It wasn’t negligence, it was trust—or a gentle detachment.
3. The Community’s Concern
The children and the neighbor may symbolize aspects of your conscience or external reflections of your inner concern. The more they searched, the more worried you became. It shows a ripple effect—how one intuitive nudge can awaken a deeper emotional truth.
You point toward kudzu, a plant known for overtaking and concealing what lies beneath. This may symbolize a fear of losing something precious to neglect, time, or overwhelming emotion.
A broken or falling fence signifies a shift in your boundaries—something is being revealed. It could mean:
You’re opening up emotionally in a way you haven’t before.
A truth you’ve kept behind closed gates is emerging.
You're ready to confront something you’ve hidden from, possibly related to change, aging, or roles evolving within your family or your identity.
The puppy’s return as a full-grown poodle is profound. It has matured. It is elegant, beautiful, but no longer what it once was. This transformation represents:
Time—how it changes our relationships, our dreams, our needs.
Evolution—of responsibilities, identities, or emotional needs you once dismissed.
A deep recognition that some things, even if they return, cannot be held the same way.
Your joy in seeing the dog is real, but so is the sadness that you can’t keep it. It’s a moment of graceful surrender.
You had the chance to take it in, but the moment had passed. You no longer had space—physically, emotionally, or spiritually.
Letting it go wasn’t rejection.
It was an acknowledgment:
This no longer belongs to me.
This dream speaks to longing, change, and the bittersweet nature of memory. It could be reflecting something you’ve released—a creative path, a version of motherhood, a spiritual calling, a loss that still walks beside you in dreams. It reminds you that sometimes, beauty returns just to remind you of what once was—and it’s okay to honor it without needing to possess it again.
It’s a dream of maturity, grace, and release.
