Blood Moon Dreaming: Walking the Trail of Tender Presence
I am writing this blog with the hope that it may open something for you, too. My dream under the recent Blood Moon is mine, but the process of listening to it, following its threads, and asking what it reveals is something we can all do.
Dreams often carry messages hidden in their imagery. By attending to them, we can glimpse where our lives are asking us to grow. The Blood Moon Eclipse in Pisces opened a threshold moment—an invitation to reflect tenderly, to rest and reset, and to allow new clarity to emerge in the days that follow. In fact, the three days after such an eclipse are especially potent for noticing what surfaces.
I also want to share that I have an amazing friend who offers classes to work with dreams—both one-on-one and in groups. If you feel stirred by what follows and want to deepen your own dreamwork, please reach out, and I’d be glad to introduce you.
What follows is my dream and how I’ve worked with it. As you read, I encourage you to pay attention to the parts that stir something within you. Let them become prompts for your own reflection under this moonlight threshold.
The Child: Anchored in Tenderness
In the dream, I was with my son as a four-year-old. Inquisitive, articulate, tender. I was fully present with him—listening, engaging, nurturing. It was a scene filled with love and contentment, set in a gentle community space where kindness felt natural.
This dream image reminded me of the way tender attention roots us. Whether with a child, a vision, or a fragile beginning, the act of being present is what allows growth.
Where in your life are you invited to reconnect with tender presence you once offered so naturally? Can you let tenderness be the soil where something new takes root?
The Public Square: Speaking Truth with Courage
The dream shifted. Authorities were detaining a man with the spirit of Edward Snowden—an activist, a revealer of hidden truths. I stepped forward, asking questions. Not yelling, not fighting—just inquiring. And that alone disrupted the flow of power.
The dream’s teaching here was clear: voice does not always have to roar to make a difference. Sometimes, the act of questioning itself is enough to alter the current.
Where in your life are you being called to speak—not with force, but with clarity? What might shift if you simply asked the question that no one else is asking?
The Healing Space: Returning to the Work
The dream carried me next into a wellness center I once ran. The activist’s wife was there, and in his absence, I took on his massage appointments. At first, I thought it was just one. But when I looked closer, the practice had grown—thriving with many sessions scheduled. I felt surprise, awe, and a flicker of anxiety: Can I carry this much again?
This dream scene mirrored my past in Integrative Medicine at a local hospital. I was the only holistic nurse, yet I dared to nurture a seed that grew into a full program: massage, reflexology, energy work, health coaching and mindfulness classes. It thrived, until institutional politics and budget cuts ended it prematurely. The ending hurt; it shook my confidence. But the work did not vanish. It lived on in me, in my own business, in every circle and retreat I’ve built since.
The dream reminded me: seeds continue to live and grow, even when we step away. Our role is not always to carry everything alone, but to step back in with care, trust, and the support of allies.
What in your life has been quietly thriving, waiting for you to notice it? When you feel anxious about stepping back in, can you remember that the seed itself carries strength—you are not alone in its growth?
Working with the Blood Moon Threshold
The Blood Moon asks us to notice the places where endings and beginnings meet. For me, it surfaced as tenderness, voice, and vocation. For you, it may be entirely different.
Take some time in these days following the eclipse to notice what themes have arisen in your own life. Where are you being asked to soften? To speak? To return? To let go?
The three days after an eclipse are considered especially valuable for this kind of reflection. It may not feel harmonious at first—our nervous systems can be stirred into overdrive, and clarity might only come in small moments. Yet, with each pause, each breath, each act of presence, a new pattern begins to emerge.
Closing
As I reflect on my own Blood Moon dream, I’m reminded that none of us are meant to do this work of listening and tending alone. Circles, communities, and even small gatherings of friends help us hold space for one another, weaving strength and clarity where it’s hard to carry it by ourselves.
If you’d like resources to bring into your own circles or friendships—seasonal reflections, guided practices, and gentle prompts—you’re welcome to explore my Patreon community. It’s designed not just for attending my offerings, but for giving you tools you can weave into the connections and communities that matter most to you.