Dream interpretation is the beginning of seeing life through the lens of an occultist. In my study of practical occultism, symbols in general became a profound and juicy part of my research. Starting with the basic weird dream that left an echoey feeling in my head I needed to ponder, I transitioned to “Oh, wow. Everything means something, even in waking life.”

I understand that statement sounds very woo-woo, but remember, my perspective loves grounding the mystical and making sense of how two very different planes come together. Also, as a reader, it is essential that you take information and apply your own critical thinking and intuitive skills to the equation. Part of the practice of occultism is to never take things at face value and to always apply your own reasoning while remaining adaptable to evidence as it presents itself.

There is much to be said about the history of dream interpretation, dating back thousands and thousands of years. In short, humans have been doing this for probably as long as we’ve existed. Why is that?

I would say it comes down to one thing: the impression. Dreams often leave us with an emotional residue that has had people sharing the phenomenon for centuries. Despite “not being real,” the experience itself can say otherwise. Most, if not all, people have fallen victim to the fantasy land of our minds at rest. The way moments in dreams feel so significant, nostalgic, unsettling, or all-encompassing speaks to a larger question: what does this have to do with anything?

Premonitions have been known to come through dreams. Our deeper fears and desires show up in dreams. Any random clip you saw on TV or while scrolling your phone shows up in dreams. All of these fall into the same category: the energy around you.

As conscious and in control as we’d like to see ourselves, a vast majority of the energy we deal with is out of sight, outside tangible reality. This speaks to a larger purpose we serve on this earth: we are energy portals. Consumption is not just buying a pair of shoes or a vanilla-scented candle; it’s happening constantly as you open your eyes, listen with your ears, smell with your nose, touch with your hands, and walk into rooms with your feet. I love referencing the diagrams in school we had to make to show particles in solid, liquid, and gas states, as this reminds us of the bigger picture in which we exist. Despite our compactness, we still exist within the ever-changing world of atoms, and therefore, what we interact with has an influence on us whether we like it or not.

Back to dreams—you will notice how nuanced a dream is by its weirdness. What stands out to you is meant to stand out. Do you ever wake up from a dream that felt like an alternate reality, only to not find the words to describe what so vividly had your attention? All you can remember is there was a giant pickle man who was really a dinosaur that jumped in your car (but not your actual car) and drove away.

The rational mind recalls that and does one of two things:

1. Shrugs it off and considers not eating chocolate before bed again.
2. Ponders if that means anything.

After being both 1 and 2, I am happy to protest that both are valuable outlooks, but the meat and bones are in 2: seeking deeper meaning. Because again, looking through the lens that we are energy portals, what made that energy stick?

Like attracts like, but also opposites attract, so it makes you wonder which side you’re sitting on.

Through extensive research and dream journaling (recommended if you want to get better at remembering your dreams), I can attest that some dreams are premonitions, others are messages, and others are random splatters of your energy and the energies it is connected to.

The tricky part is figuring out which is which. When I call a dream a premonition or a message, I am describing how I have interpreted my own experiences. That does not mean every vivid dream predicts something, or that an intense feeling automatically confirms an interpretation.

Sometimes you wake up convinced you have received something profound, and by lunchtime, you realize you fell asleep with a documentary playing. Sometimes a dream that seemed completely irrelevant takes on meaning months later. And sometimes you never figure it out. You are allowed to leave a question mark where a question mark belongs.

This is where I think dream interpretation becomes a practice rather than a quick search for “what does a snake mean?”

A snake could represent danger to one person, transformation to another, and someone’s childhood pet to a third. Before reaching for an established symbolic meaning, I want to know what my own relationship with that symbol is. Am I afraid of it? Drawn to it? Does it remind me of someone? What was it actually doing?

A snake peacefully resting in your hands creates a very different story from a snake chasing you through your childhood home. The symbol matters, but so does the entire situation it lives in.

And then there is the feeling.

If I could recommend one place to begin, it would be there. Before trying to translate every object in a dream, ask yourself what the experience felt like. Were you embarrassed? Responsible for everyone? Desperate to get somewhere? Comfortable in a place you have never been?

You might not know what the strange house means, but you know you were walking through it afraid to disturb anyone. That gives you something to work with. Where in your waking life do you feel like you have to make yourself smaller? Where are you behaving like a guest when you would like to feel at home?

These questions do not give you a universal answer. They give you a relationship with your own symbolism.

This is also where dream interpretation starts meeting reality.

The same attention you give a dream can be brought into your waking life. You notice an image, an encounter, or a recurring theme, and something about it catches you. Maybe you keep coming across imagery of doors while considering a major change. Maybe an animal appears during a moment that already feels emotionally significant. Maybe a conversation echoes a question you have been privately asking yourself.

Through an occult lens, you might explore these experiences as symbols or synchronicities. I find value in that exploration. But I also think it is essential to distinguish between something being meaningful to you and something being proof of an outside message.

Those are different claims.

If a moth at your window makes you think about what you are drawn toward, that reflection can be valuable. The moth also has its own reasons for being at your window. Its ordinary existence does not prevent you from finding symbolism in the encounter, and your interpretation does not erase its ordinary existence.

Both can have room.

When I describe us as energy portals, I am using spiritual language for how continually we receive and respond to experience. The particle analogy helps me visualize that connection; it does not establish that atoms carry symbolic messages intended for us.

Grounding the mystical means being willing to make those distinctions, even when an explanation feels less exciting.

It also means noticing when we are trying to make a symbol say what we already want to hear. If you are hoping someone will come back, almost anything can start looking like confirmation. If you are afraid something bad will happen, an unsettling dream can feel like evidence before anything has actually occurred.

That is a good moment to pause and ask: what did I observe, and what have I added to it?

For dream journaling, I recommend writing down the actual dream first, before interpreting it. Record the details you remember, the emotions, and anything happening in your life around that time. Then give your interpretation its own space. If something later seems to correspond with the dream, you can return to what you originally recorded instead of relying entirely on memory.

Pay attention to the dreams that do not appear to correspond with anything, too. They belong in the picture.

Over time, what interests me most is the pattern. Different dreams might put you in different places with different people, yet leave you doing the same thing: trying to rescue someone, searching for privacy, missing your ride, or speaking without being heard.

At that point, the question becomes bigger than “What does this object mean?” You can start asking, “Why do I keep finding myself in this position?”

That is where symbolism gets juicy again. It gives you a way to approach an experience you may not have fully found words for yet.

You do not have to decode every dream or turn every strange coincidence into an assignment. Sometimes an image stays with you because it opens a useful question. Sometimes the answer changes as you do.

For me, seeing life through the lens of an occultist means staying curious enough to explore those impressions and grounded enough to reconsider them. I want to listen to what catches my attention without immediately deciding I know why it appeared.

So the next time a dream follows you into your morning, write it down. Start with the feeling. Follow your own associations. See what questions emerge before reaching for a conclusion.

Even the giant pickle man deserves a little context.