I had a strange dream last night. In the dream, I was with my sister and a few others on a trip. We had rented what was advertised as a “unique stay,” a house unlike any other.

When we arrived, the house opened into more than seven rooms, each connected through twisting hallways. Every room had wide windows that looked outward into something different: one into deep water, another into the forest, and another onto a busy road where I could see people walking toward the shoreline.

What struck me most was that each room carried its own stash of supplies. The forest-facing room had hiking shoes and a small tent. The room looking out at the water held life jackets, swimsuits, and even a blow-up raft. Everywhere we turned, there were neatly labeled items such as spare clothes, beachwear, hiking boots, and swim shoes, all tucked away and cared for. It seemed as though the owners had started by offering the basics, but over time, families who stayed there had added to the collection. Each room bore evidence of lives that had passed through, leaving behind something useful for the next traveler.

The house itself was oddly shaped, almost labyrinth-like, with narrow passageways leading from one room to the next. And yet, it amazed me, this strange, complex home stocked with tools for every kind of journey.

Interpreting the Dream

When I woke up, I could not stop thinking about the dream. The house felt less like a rental property and more like a metaphor for life.

The house as the self.
I think of the house as a reflection of my own inner world. The many rooms represent the different parts of me, past, present, and future. Each hallway and narrow passage mirrors the transitions I have had to navigate, sometimes tight and uncomfortable, but still leading me forward.

The windows as perspectives.
Each window opened onto a different view: water, forest, community. They remind me that life can be seen through multiple lenses, whether it is intuition and healing, growth and exploration, or connection with others. What we focus on changes what we see.

The gear as resources.
The neatly arranged gear spoke to me most. It felt like a message that I am not moving through this life empty-handed. Just as past guests stocked each room, the people and experiences before me have left behind tools, lessons, and strength. Even when I feel unprepared, I already carry what I need, whether that is resilience, wisdom, community, or love.

The journey as shared.
And of course, my sister was there. She is a reminder that some rooms are meant to be entered together, that even in labyrinths, we do not wander completely alone.

What This Dream Means for Me Now

This past week I have worked six straight days of twelve-hour shifts. I have not had a single moment to pause, let alone breathe. But today, finally, I have nothing scheduled. And so I decided to simply sit in my own home.

As I write this, I am looking around at the space I have created for myself. Here is the view I had as I was writing this:

Most of what fills this home are pieces I have collected over time, finds from Facebook Marketplace, things picked up for free, and treasures gathered along the way. My roommates, who are the sweetest, help keep our San Francisco home clean and welcoming, but every item you see belongs to me.

Last week I picked up flowers and placed them around the house because I believed my home deserved to see beauty too.

Like the dream house, my own home is stocked with objects that tell a story. Nothing matches, but each piece is part of me and part of where I am in life right now. It may not be perfect, but it is mine. And that, I realize, is its own kind of dream.

My walls, though, are still blank.

If anyone has art suggestions, I would love to hear them.

Reflection for you: If you were to walk into the “house” of your own life, what rooms would you find? What gear has been left for you, lessons, memories, resilience, that you can use for the journey ahead?