Which messenger comes in your dreams?

1The Door in the Long Corridor — The Messenger of the Unchosen

You have chosen the door. It is open, the light is already coming through it, and you are still on this side. That is the most important detail in your choice, because the Messenger of the Unchosen comes when my life already holds a possibility, a decision or a conversation that has been waiting for my answer for some time. It may be a job offer that attracts me but will change my whole rhythm, a person with whom the relationship has reached that wonderful moment in which two people have known for weeks which conversation they need to have and show remarkable inventiveness in talking about everything else, a move, a course, a project of my own, a purchase, a parting, a journey, or an idea that has already travelled from “some day” to “I could actually do this”.

This Messenger appears in that peculiar time before the choice, when I can live in two versions of the future at once. I am still in the old job, and I am already picturing the first day at the new one; the ticket is waiting to be bought, but I have checked the flights, the hotel and probably where they make good coffee three streets away; the conversation is still ahead, and my head already holds at least four versions of it, including one in which I say everything magnificently and the person opposite also suddenly becomes unusually reasonable. One story may still be going on while part of me is already picturing life after it. Big decisions rarely arrive with a sign saying “ATTENTION, FATEFUL MOMENT”. More often they begin as a thought I return to again and again, until one day I notice that I am supposedly only doing research and my browser already has an opinion of its own on the matter.

If this image drew you, look for the theme you have been circling for the past few weeks. What do you check several times, what do you ask different people about, which conversation do you rehearse in your head, and what do you picture in the evening, when nobody expects a sensible answer from you? There may be a possibility about which you keep saying “I am still thinking”, although you have already gathered enough material for a small doctoral thesis. That may be exactly where your door is, because hesitation often begins the moment an idea becomes real enough to have consequences.

Every serious decision changes more than one thing. A new job may bring growth and better conditions, and with them come other people, another rhythm and a parting with the familiar. A relationship may ask for more closeness, more presence and more room in everyday life. Moving opens a new life and pushes away the old address, the friends and the habits. A project of your own may give freedom, and after it may arrive the astonishing discovery that the boss now lives inside my own head. That is exactly why what holds me back in front of the important door is often the price of the choice. If I say “yes”, what will change? If I refuse, what will I keep? Which future attracts me and which one makes me shrink? What would I choose if, for one day, other people's expectations, advice and those souls who are ready to give an opinion before I have even asked for it all disappeared?

The Messenger of the Unchosen comes at the point where the door is already visible and the decision is close enough to change my real life. Then the question becomes more interesting than the ordinary “yes or no”, because behind it stands another one: what life am I choosing through this answer?

If you dream of doors and corridors

In a dream with a door, notice how the door looks and how you feel in front of it. Is it open, is it locked, is there light on the other side, do you know where it leads, are you moving closer, do you pass it by, or do you keep coming back to it? If there are many doors, see whether you are choosing between them or wandering from one to another, and if the corridor is long, try to remember whether you know which door you are looking for. With a recurring dream it is interesting to follow what changes — the distance, the light, the colour, the handle, the person beside you or your own feeling.

The image of the open door you remain in front of is especially strong. Write down what stops you and how you feel in that moment. You may feel fear, curiosity, impatience, you may be waiting for someone, or you may sense that life beyond the threshold will be different. If you step through, write down the first thing you see on the other side — a room, a street, a person, the sea, a garden, an unknown city. Before you look for a ready interpretation, ask what this image means for you personally. A garden is freedom for one person, childhood for another, and for a third it is the place where his grandmother made him weed the tomatoes all summer, so the universal dream dictionary has its limits.

The small experiment — “The decision has already been made”

Choose the specific theme and imagine that tonight the decision is made for you, and tomorrow morning you simply learn the result. You have accepted the offer, the journey is booked, the meeting will take place, the message has been sent, the relationship continues, the parting is decided, the contract is signed, or you are already enrolled in the course. Stay in that version for a while and catch the first reaction, before reason starts writing an explanatory memo. What comes first — joy, relief, regret, fear, irritation, curiosity, a sense of space?

Then imagine the opposite result and do the same. Write the two reactions side by side and see where the inner relief appears and where the tension increases. The exercise will not decide for you, but it may bring to the surface a reaction that long deliberation has already managed to bury beautifully under arguments.

The Messenger's question: “Which decision is already waiting for my answer, and what makes me put it off?”

Seven nights with the Door

For seven evenings leave a notebook beside the bed and before sleep write down the same question: “Which door am I ready to open?” In the morning, before the telephone manages to tell you what has happened to half the world, write down the first three things you remember — a person, a place, a colour, a word, an object, an action, or the feeling you woke with. Follow the choices inside the dream as well: where you set off, whom you follow, where you return, what you accept, what you leave, and whether there is a moment in which you choose between two directions, places, people or actions.

During the day add the moments in which the theme of the decision appears again through a conversation, a message, some information, a meeting or a thought of your own. On the seventh morning read the notes all at once and look for the images and feelings that repeat. Then compare them with what has been happening during the day. That is how you gradually begin to build your own dictionary of dreams and to see how one theme can appear at night in completely different clothes.

The mandala of choice

Choose one specific decision and look at the centre of the mandala for two or three minutes, letting your gaze move gradually towards the open door and the light beyond it. Then close your eyes and imagine that you have already crossed the threshold and are living in the reality after this choice. What does the first morning look like? What are you doing differently? What already has a place in your life?

Then finish three sentences: “After this choice there will be more … in my life.” “I will have to leave …” “Tomorrow I would …” Write down the first ending for each. The third answer is especially interesting, because it turns the big decision into an entirely ordinary next day. If the choice had already been made, what would you actually do tomorrow morning?

Sound meditation — “In front of the door”

Play the sound meditation “In front of the door”, close your eyes and picture the long corridor. At the end of it is the door you have chosen. As you walk towards it, carry the question “What am I leaving on this side?” in your mind, and when you come close and see the light beyond, ask “What do I want to find on the other side?” At the end put your hand on the handle and stay for a while with the last question: “How will I feel if, a year from now, I am still standing in front of the same door?”

Let your imagination carry the scene on by itself. You may cross the threshold, stay in front of it, look beyond, or move away. When it ends, write down what you did and how you felt. It is precisely the spontaneous action in that inner scene that may turn out to be the most interesting part of the meditation.

A small ritual — “The two versions”

Take two small sheets of paper and write the two possibilities on them. If the choice is between “yes” and “no”, use exactly those words, and if it is about two different directions, write their names. Place the sheets some distance apart and stand on the first one, imagining that this decision is already a fact and three months have passed. Look over an ordinary day of yours in your mind — where you wake, whom you talk to, how you use your time, what has become easier and what asks more of you. Then step onto the second sheet and live through the other version in the same way.

At the end stand between the two sheets and finish one sentence for each possibility: “If I choose this, I accept …” That word matters, because a choice comes as a whole package, and fate rarely offers a menu from which we can tick only our favourite side dishes. Put the sheets away and read them again the next day. You may still need information or a conversation, but you will already see more clearly what each of your “yes” answers really contains.

Over the next seven days write your dreams in the Moon & Tarot journal, especially the doors, the corridors, the thresholds, the choices, the people waiting for you and the places you set off towards. If one door, one choice or the same dream keeps coming back, take exactly that one to Dream Interpretation in the Game of the Soul. A choice can begin during the day, and at night the mind carries the conversation on without asking permission. After seven nights you may discover something far more interesting than a ready answer — which door you keep glancing at every time you think you have already turned your eyes elsewhere.

2The Water — The Messenger of Feeling

You have chosen the water. Of all twelve images, your gaze has stayed with the one that has no single form. In one moment the sea is smooth and the light slides over it, in the next a wave comes and the whole picture changes. I am much the same with feelings. I can explain to myself beautifully that a story has ended, that someone's words no longer touch me or that I have accepted what happened, and then I hear a song, catch a familiar scent, or someone quite innocently mentions a name, and my inner world decides to present an opinion of its own. It clearly missed the meeting at which reason declared the matter closed.

The Messenger of Feeling comes when there is an emotion in me that wants more room. It may be love I have not yet expressed, longing for a person or a life I miss, sadness I have set aside for a more convenient moment, jealousy I do not at all enjoy admitting, tenderness, fear, hurt, gratitude, or joy so strong that it shakes me as well. Some feelings I recognise at once; others first appear as unease, an unusual dream, sudden sensitivity, or that hard-to-explain sense that something is weighing on me although I cannot yet give it a name. That is exactly why water is such a precise image — it can be quiet and deep, clear and cold, warm and pleasant, and one wave is enough to change everything in seconds.

If you have chosen the water, notice how you have been reacting these past few days. What moves you more than usual, which subject changes your mood instantly, what do you miss, and what do you return to in your mind when you are alone? What are you so glad about that fear of losing it arrives along with the gladness? There may be a person whose message changes your whole day, an old story that has suddenly come alive after one meeting, or an entirely new feeling that you are still examining carefully from every side. And there are those moments when the mouth says confidently “I am fine”, while the rest of me clearly did not attend the meeting.

This Messenger can also arrive through a wonderful feeling. I meet someone and discover that the attraction is far stronger than I had planned. I get the job I wanted, and along with the satisfaction comes the fear of whether I will manage. My child is growing up and I am glad of that independence, while at the same time I miss the years when a small hand was in mine. I fall in love and I am happy, but precisely because I now have something to lose, I become more vulnerable. One situation can easily gather love and fear, joy and sadness, relief and loss. The inner world rarely takes account of my wish to have everything filed neatly in one folder with a clear label.

With this Messenger it is important first to stay with the feeling itself and to give it a name. Is it love, loss, jealousy, tenderness, fear, joy, hurt, gratitude, guilt, longing? The first word may turn out to be approximate, and a little later you may find the more precise one. “I am angry”, for example, may turn into “I am hurt”, and behind “I miss you” may appear “I am still hoping”. When a feeling is given a name, I begin to understand more clearly why it comes back, what it is connected with and what place it wants in my life.

If you dream of water

In dreams with water, the most important trace is how the water itself looks and how you feel close to it. If you dream of the sea, a river, a lake, rain, a swimming pool, a flood, ice or even a glass of water, write down the details. Is it clear, can you see the bottom, is it moving, are the waves coming towards you, are you swimming easily, are you trying to reach the shore, are you watching from a distance? Is it cold or warm? Does it draw you in or make you step back?

Two people can dream of the same sea and live through two entirely different stories. One swims in warm clear water and wakes with a wonderful feeling; the other watches enormous waves and opens his eyes with tension. The word “sea” is the same, and the personal meaning can be completely different. That is why the feeling on waking is more valuable than the ready explanation that “water means such and such”.

If water repeats in your dreams, follow how it changes as well. On the first night you may be on the shore, on the next you wade in up to your knees, and after a time you are already swimming. The stormy sea may gradually grow quiet, or the light rain may turn into a downpour. Those changes can be an interesting trace towards the way you yourself live through one emotional theme on different days.

The small experiment — “The name beneath the name”

Choose one feeling that has been appearing more often lately and write it in the middle of a sheet of paper. Then finish three sentences: “I feel it most strongly when …” “If I let it speak, it will say …” “Beneath it there may be …” The last one is the most interesting, because the first feeling is not always the whole story. Beneath irritation there may be disappointment, beneath jealousy a fear of loss, beneath sadness longing, and beneath unexplained tension a wish that has long been waiting to be admitted.

Then remember the last specific moment when this feeling appeared, and write down what you did immediately afterwards. Did you go quiet, write a message, open the fridge, start working, call someone, go out for a walk? That way you can also see your own automatic way of living with this emotion. Feelings have an interesting habit of arriving with company, and habits are often their first companions.

The Messenger's question: “Which feeling wants a place in my life, and what changes when I allow it to have a name?”

Seven nights with the Water

For seven evenings leave a notebook beside the bed and before sleep write: “Which feeling wants to be heard tonight?” In the morning write down the first three things you remember, and add one word for the feeling on waking. If there was water in the dream, note what it was like — quiet, stormy, clear, dark, warm, cold, close to you or far away. If the water is missing, write down the image that carried the strongest sensation and see what you personally connect it with.

During the day note one moment in which the same feeling appeared in real life, and what brought it on. After seven days read the night notes and the day notes together. You may discover that the dreams kept changing the people, the places and the scenery, while one and the same feeling ran through them like an undercurrent. It is exactly these repetitions that gradually build your personal dictionary of dreams.

The mandala of feeling

Place the mandala in front of you and look at its centre for two or three minutes, letting your gaze follow the movement of the water and the light. Notice which part draws you first and what sensation appears while you look at it. Then close your eyes and ask: “If the water in front of me is my feeling, what is it like?” Let the first word come by itself — stormy, warm, cold, deep, clear, heavy, soft, enormous, pleasant, or something else entirely.

Then finish three sentences: “This water appears when …” “It wants me to …” “If I give it a place, I will be able to …” Write down the first endings without editing them. A day later read them again and see whether the word you used to describe the water resembles the way you live through one particular feeling in your life.

Sound meditation — “The waves in me”

Play the sound meditation “The waves in me” in the evening, close your eyes and let the sound gradually create its own image of water. A sea may appear, a lake, a river, rain, or a picture you did not expect at all. Watch the water without changing it, and notice where you are in relation to it — in the water, on the shore, above it, far from it — and how you feel there.

As you listen, hold three questions one after another: “What do I feel?” “Where do I sense it in myself?” “What do I want to allow myself to feel all the way through?” When it ends, stay with your eyes closed a few seconds longer and write down the first word, image or sentence that comes. It is often the first reaction that is more interesting than the explanation I can compose five minutes later.

A small ritual — “The glass of feeling”

Pour a glass of water and, before you drink it, write the name of the feeling you have recognised on a small piece of paper. Take the glass in your hands for a moment and remember the specific moment when this feeling appeared most strongly. Then say silently: “I allow myself to acknowledge this feeling and to understand what it brings me.”

Drink the water slowly, then turn the paper over and finish one sentence: “When I admit that I feel this, I understand …” Keep the paper until the end of the seven nights and then read it again together with the notes from your dreams. The feeling may be the same, or you may already have found a far more precise word for it. Water changes its shape according to the vessel, and feelings too know how to look different once I finally examine them closely.

Over the next seven days write your dreams in the Moon & Tarot journal and note the Moon, the main image, the feeling on waking and what happens during the day. In time you may discover your own dictionary of water — for you the sea may come with love, the rain with relief, and the swimming pool with that particular tension no universal dream dictionary has any way of knowing. If one dream keeps coming back or leaves an especially strong sensation, take exactly that one to Dream Interpretation in the Game of the Soul. The dream gives the image, and the feeling may reveal why that particular image keeps swimming towards you night after night.

3The Train at the Empty Station — The Messenger of Time

You have chosen the train. There is a clock at the station, the rails carry on ahead, the train has arrived, and the whole scene asks one question: has the time come? The Messenger of Time appears when my life holds something I keep talking about in the future tense, although the future is starting to look suspiciously like the present. “I will apply.” “I will call him.” “I will start.” “I will ask.” “I will go.” That “will” can be an extremely comfortable place to live — no deadline, no risk, and always one more Monday on which I can finally begin.

Time, however, has a timetable of its own. For some things I genuinely do have to wait, because I am gathering money, knowledge, information, experience or strength, and every following week brings me closer to the moment. With others, the waiting gradually begins to push life itself aside. The job advertisement has a closing date, the child grows up while I leave our trip together for the time when everyone will be freer, the person I want to see also has a calendar, and the course begins in October whether or not I have managed to hold another seven meetings with myself by September. Time has the slightly annoying habit of carrying on without my final opinion.

If you have chosen the train, look at what you are waiting for now and what exactly has to happen for you to decide that the moment has come. You may be waiting for someone to call, for the busy period to end, to have more money, more confidence or more free time, to lose weight, to save a certain sum, to get an answer, or finally to feel that you are ready. The reason may be entirely real, and then it matters whether the condition is actually coming closer, or whether every time you reach it you add another one.

Imagine a person who decides to change jobs after the end of the busy month. The month passes, but then comes the year-end closing, after it the holidays, then Christmas, and January somehow does not look suitable for big decisions. February is short, and suddenly the old job is celebrating another anniversary of his intention to leave it. Another person is waiting to gather a certain sum for a journey and genuinely saves every month. Both are waiting, but for one the calendar is bringing him closer to what he wants, while for the other the calendar is simply turning its pages.

The Messenger of Time can also appear when I have the feeling that I have already missed my train. I did not apply, I did not speak in time, I turned down the journey, the person left, the flat was sold, the opportunity ended. One missed moment can easily turn into the conviction that “it is too late now”, and from there a person begins to look after the departed train for so long that he can hardly notice the next arrival. The next possibility may have another route, another person, another job or an entirely different shape from the one I first expected. Missed time has something to tell me, but there is no need for it to receive a lifetime right over my future.

There is also the other extreme — to hurry, because I am afraid of being late. I accept the first offer, I push a relationship along, I set off unprepared, or I begin measuring my life by somebody else's timetable. Someone my age already has a family, another has his own business, a third lives in another country, and suddenly I start asking myself whether my train is fifteen years behind schedule. Somebody else's calendar, however, measures somebody else's life. I may be entirely ready for one change and need more time for another, and the real question is what is happening in my life now.

That is why this Messenger carries four different possibilities: it is still early, the moment is drawing near, the time has already come, or a moment has passed and it is time to see what comes after it. The difference lies in the movement. If I am waiting, but meanwhile gathering what is needed and coming closer to a clear date or condition, the waiting has a direction. If my answer has been “soon” for months, and every “soon” gives birth to the next one, it is worth translating that word into the language of real days, weeks and months.

If you dream of trains, stations and clocks

In dreams with trains, stations, clocks and delays, the details are far more interesting than the symbol itself. Notice whether you are waiting, running, missing the train, arriving far too early, getting on at the last second, stepping off at an unknown station, or travelling without knowing where. It also matters whether you have a ticket, whether you know the time, whether you are carrying luggage, whether someone is travelling with you, and how you feel when the train arrives or leaves.

If you keep missing the train, look at where in the daytime you live with the sense that you should already have got further. If you are waiting for a train that does not arrive, ask yourself what you are expecting to begin through a decision, an action or an answer from outside. If you are running and getting on at the last second, see whether in everyday life too a deadline almost has to start breathing down your neck before you move. If you arrive very early and the station is empty, perhaps you are ready for something whose circumstances are still taking shape. And if you are stepping off at an unknown station, notice whether the first sensation is curiosity, fear, relief, or a wish to get straight back on.

The recurring station deserves attention as well. Write down what is always the same and what changes — the time, the platform, the people, the direction, the luggage or the train. If the dream takes you back to a certain age, date or period, note it, but keep the focus on time in your present life: how does that moment affect your sense of whether it is now early, late or exactly on time? That way no. 3 remains the Messenger of the present moment, and the past keeps its own place at no. 12.

The small calendar test

Choose one thing you are waiting for or putting off, and ask yourself three questions: “What exactly am I waiting for?” “How will I know that the moment has come?” “Is there a real date or condition after which I will act?” Answer as specifically as possible. “When I have 3,000 euros”, “once I receive the document”, “when the project finishes on 15 November” or “after the conversation on Friday” are conditions that can be checked. “When everything falls into place”, “when I am completely sure” and “when I feel ready” deserve one more question: what will that look like in reality?

Then add a fourth sentence: “While I am waiting, I can …” It is precisely that one that shows whether time is working together with you. If you are waiting for money for a course, you can look into the programme; if you are waiting for an answer about a job, you can prepare the next application; if the journey is three months away, you can start preparing now. Few people begin a new job, a business, a course, a relationship or a big change with one hundred per cent confidence, all the answers and beautifully arranged hair.

The Messenger's question: “What has the time already come for, and how will I know that the moment is mine?”

Seven nights at the station

For seven evenings leave a notebook beside the bed and before sleep write the same question: “What has the time already come for?” In the morning write down the first three images you remember, and pay special attention to everything connected with time and movement — arriving, setting off, waiting, being late, travelling, a clock, a ticket, a suitcase, a car, a sunrise, a sunset, a season, a date or a certain age. Write down as well whether you manage to reach the place you set off for, and the feeling you wake with.

During the day note one moment in which you said “later”, “tomorrow”, “next week”, “once this is over” or “it is not the time yet”, and beside it write down what specifically has to change for that time to come. On the seventh day read the night notes and the day notes together and see which theme repeats, whether you have come closer to it during the week, and what has actually changed. That way the difference between preparation and endless postponement starts to become much easier to see.

The mandala of time

Place the mandala in front of you, choose one specific theme that is waiting, and look at the centre for two or three minutes. Let your gaze pass over the clock, the circles and the rails without looking for an answer straight away, then close your eyes and imagine the same theme at three moments — today, in six months and in a year. What changes in each picture and what stays the same?

Then finish three sentences: “I will know the time has come when …” “While I am waiting, I can …” “If I am still in the same place a year from now, I will …” Write down the first answers. The last sentence turns the comfortable “later” into twelve real months of your life and shows very quickly whether the waiting still makes sense to you.

Sound meditation — “It is time”

Play the sound meditation “It is time”, close your eyes and picture an empty station where you are waiting for only one train. There is one destination on the board — the theme you most often leave for later. As the sound gradually gathers movement, look at the clock in your mind and ask yourself: “What am I waiting for before I begin?” Stay with the first answer, then move on to the second question: “Which part of this depends on me?”

Towards the end, imagine that the train is already at the platform and its door is open. Ask: “What can I do as soon as tomorrow to come closer to this moment?” When it ends, write down one specific action that can be done within the next twenty-four hours. It may be an email, a phone call, checking a deadline, booking an appointment, setting aside a certain sum, or the first page of something you have long wanted to begin. One small move is enough to show you whether you are really waiting for the train or can already set off towards the platform.

A small ritual — “The date”

Choose one theme you are putting off and write on a sheet of paper a specific date on which you will come back to it. Under the date write down what has to be done by then — a certain sum, a document, some information, someone else's answer, the end of a commitment, or another real condition. Then add one action you will take before that date in order to come closer to the moment.

Fold the sheet and put it in your calendar or your journal on the chosen date. When the day comes, read what you wrote and compare the expectation with the reality. If the condition has been met, see what follows. If there is still a reason to wait, write down the new real reason. And if in the meantime the original condition has been met and the next one has simply taken its place, you will see very clearly how “some day” manages to keep extending its own contract.

Over the next seven days write your dreams in the Moon & Tarot journal, especially the hours, the dates, the delays, the journeys, the stations, the tickets and the numbers that repeat. If a dream with a train, a clock, a missed departure or long waiting keeps coming back, take exactly that one to Dream Interpretation in the Game of the Soul. The dream is unlikely to send you a timetable with a platform, a time and a polite reminder to be there ten minutes early, but it may turn your attention to something far more personal — where you are still waiting, where you are hurrying, and where your “some day” has already begun turning into “now”.

4The House with the Unknown Room — The Messenger of the Hidden Self

You have chosen the house. You know the entrance, the corridor, the windows, perhaps even that one stair that creaks, and suddenly you find a room you had no idea existed. Dreams are fond of architectural surprises like this — the subconscious clearly has little respect for the original building plan. The Messenger of the Hidden Self comes when something already exists in me that I have not yet come to know well enough: an ability, a wish, an interest, a talent, a need, a creative side, sensuality, unused courage, or a dream that suddenly starts to look far more possible than I had thought.

At twenty I may be convinced that I already know perfectly well who I am, and at forty discover a talent for something I have never tried. At fifty I can take up a new language, paint, dance, travel alone, change my direction, or, with a certain pleasure, surprise my own biography. Such discoveries can come after a meeting, a journey, a book, falling in love, a change at work, or one entirely accidental attempt, after which I wonder how it is possible that for so many years I missed something that gives me such pleasure.

The Messenger can also appear through perfectly ordinary curiosity. I start looking at photography courses although I have never thought of myself as a creative person; I am given a task at work and discover that I enjoy leading people; or I set off alone on a journey out of necessity and find that my own company is a good deal more pleasant than I had supposed. I may have claimed all my life that I cannot write, begin one evening, and the next time I look at the clock two hours have passed. And the life I long considered ideal may gradually lose part of its appeal, while another wish starts slipping into my thoughts more and more often.

The unknown room may hold both an ability and a need, because discovering something about yourself is not always about a new talent. I may long have been the person who takes care of everybody, and now sense how strongly I need a space of my own. I may always have been the sensible one in the family and suddenly discover how much pleasure creative work gives me. I may be good at a profession that no longer attracts me, while another field awakens enormous curiosity. I may discover a new way of experiencing closeness, a stronger need for independence, or the courage to ask for something I have long kept outside my idea of my own life.

That is what is special about this Messenger — the discovery may change my direction, but it can also be entirely quiet: “Actually, I like this.” “I am good at this.” “I want this.” “This suits me.” Four ordinary sentences can open a rather large room, especially when I have lived for a long time according to an old idea of myself. A person changes, gathers experience, meets new people, lives through different periods, and it is entirely possible that the old “I am that sort of person” now needs a few new pages.

If you have chosen this house, pay attention to the new curiosity. What has been drawing you lately for no obvious reason, what makes you lose track of time, which wish keeps returning, and who do you slightly envy? Envy can be quite a talkative messenger, if I ask it what exactly this is about. When I look at someone who has gone off to live by the sea, what may attract me is the freedom in the way he lives. If I keep noticing people who paint, teach, travel, build their own business or live by their own rhythm, it is worth asking myself what they have allowed themselves that I have not yet allowed myself.

Look as well at those wishes you automatically send to the folder marked “this is not for me”, and go back to the moment when you decided that. There may be real experience behind it, or the decision may be left over from a much earlier version of you, which has since changed its tastes, its plans, its priorities and probably at least ten passwords. The hidden self does not mean some mysterious other personality living secretly in the basement. More often it is a part of me for which, until now, there has simply been no occasion, no time and no space to show itself.

If you dream of houses and unknown rooms

With this image, the most interesting thing is the room itself and how you feel when you find it. Remember whether it is large or small, light or dark, empty or furnished, new, old, beautiful, neglected, or astonishingly cosy. If you find a large light room, notice what you first want to do in it. If the room is locked, write down how you feel in front of it — curious, frightened, irritated or impatient. If you find a whole new floor, see what is there and whether its presence surprises you or brings the strange feeling that you always knew about it.

The empty room is especially interesting, because it may appear in a period when space is opening up in my life and I do not yet know what I want to fill it with. A room that is fully furnished carries a different sense — as though what I am only now beginning to admit to myself already has a history of its own. If you see books, pictures, clothes, plants, musical instruments, a window looking onto a certain place, or an entirely strange object, write down what first draws your attention and what you connect it with in your own life.

Follow what you do in the room as well. Are you looking around, opening cupboards, staying inside, inviting someone in, starting to change it, or leaving straight away? If the room looks familiar although you know you have never seen it, write that sensation down. A dream can invent a whole new floor in order to give shape to something in me that I am only now beginning to notice.

The small experiment — “The room I have not yet entered”

Write five sentences beginning with “I have always thought that I am not the kind of person who …”, and finish them with the first thing that comes to you. It may be “travels alone”, “speaks in front of people”, “paints”, “dances”, “writes”, “starts a project of their own”, “changes profession”, “learns something new at fifty”, “lives by the sea”, or “wears bright red and takes no interest at all in who notices”.

Then, for each sentence, write down how you know this about yourself. Do you have enough experience to claim it, or does the idea come from someone's old remark, a family role, one unsuccessful attempt twenty years ago, or a decision you have never checked again? Choose the sentence that awakens the strongest curiosity and give it a small real chance — one lesson, one hour, one page, one visit, one walk or one conversation. The unknown room is looked around first; there is no need to order the furniture while you are still in the doorway.

The Messenger's question: “What am I discovering in myself, and what will happen if I give it room?”

Seven nights in the unknown room

For seven evenings write before sleep: “Which part of myself do I not yet know?” In the morning write down the first three images you remember, and watch especially for houses, rooms, windows, attics, basements, gardens, furniture and objects you find. Note what you do with them — enter, open, look around, search, stay alone, meet someone, or find something you did not expect.

During the day add one thing that has awakened unexpected interest — a conversation, a profession, a place, a book, a skill, a piece of clothing, a way of living, or an idea you suddenly wanted to know more about. On the seventh day read the day notes and the night notes together and see which thing appears in different forms. An unknown room from a dream and a very down-to-earth “how much I would like to try this” may turn out to be two versions of the same story.

The mandala of the hidden self

Place the mandala in front of you and look at it for two or three minutes, letting your gaze choose for itself which images it keeps returning to. You may be drawn by the book, the tree, the music, the colours, the light, or some very small detail you hardly noticed at first. Leave your attention on it for a while, then move your gaze towards the centre and close your eyes.

Imagine that you are entering your own unknown room and ask: “Which part of me wants to be given more room?” Wait for the first image, word, feeling or wish that comes, and write it down. Then finish: “If I give this part of myself room, over the next seven days I will …” The answer may be very small — to read something, to sign up for a lesson, to visit a place, to begin a conversation, or simply to set aside an hour for what has long been pulling at you.

Sound meditation — “The room in me”

Play the sound meditation “The room in me”, close your eyes and picture a house you know well. You walk through it and notice an entrance to a room you have never seen before. Go in and let your imagination create the space by itself. Look over the light, the size, the windows, the walls and the objects, then notice what you see first and what you want to do once you are inside.

You may want to sit down, open a book, paint, look out of the window, touch a particular object, or simply stay there. When it ends, write down what the room looked like, which object drew your attention and what you wanted to do in it, and then ask: “Where in my real life can I give this room?” The answer may be far more ordinary than the dream, and that is exactly why it is useful.

A small ritual — “Room for the new”

Choose one small object you connect with what you want to come to know in yourself. If writing draws you, it may be a notebook; if you are thinking about painting — a pencil; if you dream of travelling — a postcard from a place that pulls at you; if you want more time of your own — an object you connect with pleasure meant only for you. If you still have no idea what you are looking for, take a small empty box and put inside a sheet of paper with the words: “I do not yet know what I will discover.”

Then do something important — clear a physical place for this object. It may be a small corner of the desk, a shelf, a spot beside the bed, or part of the bookcase. Leave it there for seven days, and every time you see it, notice what comes to mind. If an idea appears, write it down; if you feel like doing something, add it; if the first symbol no longer suits you, change it. At the end of the week read what you have written and choose one idea that will be given a real place in the next seven days too. That way the ritual becomes entirely literal: if I want a new part of my life, I begin by making room for it.

Over the next seven days write your dreams in the Moon & Tarot journal, especially the houses, the unknown rooms, the windows, the new floors and the objects you find. If the same house keeps returning, if you keep finding new rooms, or if there is a room that keeps drawing you, take exactly that dream to Dream Interpretation in the Game of the Soul. In time you may discover that the room which first looked unknown has in fact gathered something very familiar — a wish, an ability or a way of living you have long kept returning to. And then the most interesting discovery may turn out to be an entirely personal one: the person you are only beginning to know is you.

5The Staircase Upward — The Messenger of the Next Level

You have chosen the staircase. It carries on upward, and the most interesting part is that you have already climbed some of it. You have experience, knowledge, abilities or a foundation in life you can build on, and you probably sense that what was enough for you until recently is starting to feel tight. The next step, however, has the unpleasant habit of being a little higher than the last one. The Messenger of the Next Level comes when I can already do more than I use, and I begin to understand that it is time for my life to catch up with the person I have become.

This Messenger has to do with developing something I already have a foundation for. I may be good at my work but have long been carrying out tasks below my abilities. I may have a project of my own that began as a small pastime and now wants more time, more organisation and more courage. I may be learning a language and have reached the point where the textbook is cosy, the exercises go beautifully, but a real conversation with a person opposite suddenly looks suspiciously more serious. I may have come through a difficult period, learned a great deal about myself, and now the moment arrives when what I have learned has to start taking part in the way I live.

Growth has one peculiarity: the greater possibility usually arrives with greater responsibility. I want a higher position, and along with it I receive the decisions. I want the business to grow, and then, with some astonishment, I discover that the emails grow too. I want more freedom, and it expects me to set my own direction. I want to be better at something, and the next level offers me training, practice and that slightly tedious period in which I have to study again. Growth is a fine idea, right up to the point where it arrives with a calendar, deadlines and tasks for Tuesday morning.

That is why this image often draws a person who senses that he has outgrown his present role. The work may be good and secure but no longer use his strongest qualities. The training has finished and the knowledge wants to be applied. The small project already has people looking for it and is starting to look like something that could become much bigger. In a particular field, the old rules have served me beautifully, but my present capacity is already larger than they are. And precisely when everything is going along decently, the change can easily be postponed. When a shoe pinches terribly, I change it quickly; when it is only half a size too small, I can spend quite a long time persuading my foot to be understanding.

I can also outgrow my own old idea of how much I am allowed to want. Years ago I wanted secure work, and today I want influence, freedom or a direction of my own. I began a project for pleasure and gradually see that a profession could grow out of it. I studied in order to manage, and one day I discover that I already have enough experience to be the person others learn from. There is not necessarily an outward sign to announce that moment. More often I begin to sense that the old definition of me is already small, and I find myself asking more and more often what I would do if I allowed myself one size larger.

If you have chosen the staircase, look at where you have already grown while your life has not yet caught up. You may have more knowledge than you use, more experience than your position requires, or a greater capacity than the project you have allowed yourself. You may still be looking for permission for decisions you can already make yourself, or presenting yourself as a beginner in a field where you have long had something to give. Sometimes the clearest trace is the slight irritation when you are once again doing something that has become far too easy for you, because part of you knows perfectly well that it can do more.

And that is exactly where the hesitation comes in, because the larger role changes what is expected of me. If I apply for a higher position and get it, I actually have to take it up. If I show my work to more people, I will be seen. If I turn my talent into a profession, the inspiration will be joined by price, deadlines, clients and Tuesday morning. If I begin teaching what I know, I will have to explain it clearly, and to a person who asks precisely the question I have never thought about. A dream seen from a distance has the wonderful advantage of having no administrative part.

The Messenger of the Next Level comes when I already hold something valuable — experience, a skill, knowledge, a project or maturity in life — and sense that I can take it further. Then the question is how much room I am ready to give it and what larger role I am ready to take up.

If you dream of stairs

In a dream with stairs, write down first which way you are moving and how you feel while climbing. Are you going up, coming down, standing on a landing, can you see the end, or do the stairs carry on beyond your sight? Notice whether they are wide, narrow, solid, broken or steep, whether you walk easily, whether you are carrying something, whether you have a handrail, and whether anyone is moving ahead of you or behind you.

If you are climbing easily and feel curious about what is above, look for the area of your life that is developing naturally at the moment. If the stairs are growing steeper, think about which resource would make the next level more reachable — knowledge, money, help, more practice or better organisation. The landing between two floors may coincide with a period in which you have already got somewhere but are still taking in what you have reached. If you keep coming back to the same floor, write down what happens just before you turn around.

The staircase without a handrail is interesting as well, because the direction is clear while the sense of support is missing. If the steps suddenly end in the dream, see how far your way of doing things so far has brought you and what new thing you would need in order to carry on. And if you know you have to reach the top but the end disappears somewhere above you, look at the step right in front of your feet. The whole route may still be unclear while the next step is already entirely concrete.

The small experiment — “One size larger”

Choose one area in which you already have a foundation — work, a profession, a course, a project of your own, creative work or a personal goal — and finish three sentences: “I can already …” “The next level for me is …” “For it I am ready to take on …” Give yourself a little more time with the third one, because that is exactly where the wish meets reality. The next level may ask for more time, training, responsibility, organisation, money or visibility, and it is useful to know what I am ready to put in before I announce that I want the whole package.

Then take one action one size larger than usual. Send an application for the position you have until now considered a little above your present role, have a real conversation in the language you are learning, show one piece of your work, make the first real version of your project, or share your experience with someone it could be useful to. Choose an action that makes you rise slightly onto your toes but that you can still do. There is no need to take the mountain in one afternoon. We are talking about a staircase, after all — the architects invented the steps for a reason.

The Messenger's question: “What have I already outgrown, and which is the next level I am ready for?”

Seven nights upward

For seven evenings write before sleep: “Where am I ready to grow?” In the morning write down the first three images you remember, and watch especially for stairs, floors, lifts, mountains, tall buildings, summits, balconies, roofs, flying, climbing and places from which you can see further. Write down your feeling at that height as well — confidence, curiosity, tiredness, fear, pleasure — and whether you want to carry on, to go back, or to stay where you have already got to.

During the day note one moment in which you felt “I can do more than this”, and add what that “more” would actually mean. On the seventh day read the night notes and the day notes together and see where growth is already happening, where the same theme appears, and in which area you keep using your old size although you have long had the resources for a larger one.

The mandala of the next level

Place the mandala in front of you and let your gaze move gradually from the outer circles towards the bright centre. As you pass through the first circle, ask: “What can I already do?”; at the next one: “What have I outgrown?”; and closer to the centre: “What am I ready to take on?” Do not look for the big goal straight away; watch instead which words, images or specific situations come with each question.

When your gaze reaches the centre, finish the sentence: “My next step is …” and write down the first specific answer. If it suddenly includes changing your whole life, a director's office and fluent Italian by Friday, reduce the scale and find the action you can actually take now. The next level begins at the next step, not at the top floor.

Sound meditation — “One step up”

Play the sound meditation “One step up”, close your eyes and picture a wide, bright staircase carrying on upward. Its end disappears into the height, but the next step is clearly visible. As the sound gradually unfolds, come closer to it and ask: “What do I already have that will help me climb?” A skill may appear, a person, experience, knowledge, a quality, or something entirely concrete you have taken for granted until now.

Then imagine that you are stepping one level higher, and ask: “What will be expected of me in this place?” Stay in that picture for a while and see how you feel in the larger role. Towards the end, ask the last question: “What can I do over the next seven days to begin living one size larger?” After the meditation write down only one action. The whole five-year plan can wait; the Messenger of growth is interested in the movement upward and has nothing against a person using the handrail.

A small ritual — “The five steps”

Take a sheet of paper and draw five wide steps. On the first write something that used to be difficult for you and that you can already do; on the second — a skill, experience or knowledge you have gathered; on the third — where you are today; on the fourth — the real next level; on the fifth — what would become possible if you reached it. Read what you have written from the bottom upward and notice how much of the way is already behind you, because a person has the strange ability to remember how far he wants to get and to forget how far he has climbed.

Then circle the fourth step and under it write one action you will take over the next seven days. Beside it put a specific day. That way the enormous “I want to grow” is given a very down-to-earth address — an application on Tuesday, a phone call on Wednesday, a first version by Friday, signing up for a course, or an hour of work on the project. After seven days come back to the sheet and see whether you have taken the step and what can be seen from the new place.

Over the next seven days write your dreams in the Moon & Tarot journal, especially the climbs, the stairs, the high places, the floors and the sense of what is above you. If a dream with a staircase, a climb or an unreachable upper floor keeps coming back, take exactly that one to Dream Interpretation in the Game of the Soul. You may discover that the staircase keeps returning because you have already reached the place from which the old floor has become too small for you. Look at how much you have climbed, then look one level up — for now, that is precisely the one that is yours.

6The Bridge in the Fog — The Messenger of Transition

You have chosen the bridge. Behind you is a shore you know, ahead of you is another one you cannot see well yet, and you are somewhere in the middle. This is a particular place in life — the old no longer belongs to you in the same way, and the new has not yet become familiar enough for you to call it yours. The Messenger of Transition comes in periods when the change has already happened or has begun, but inwardly you are still learning to live in it. A bridge has no sofa, no kitchen and no wardrobe with clothes for four seasons, because nobody planned for us to settle in the middle. A person, however, has a remarkable talent for trying.

This Messenger has to do with the in-between period. The divorce is already a fact, but you do not yet know who you are outside the marriage. You have moved to another city and have a new address, but the old neighbourhood still appears in your thoughts as “home”. You have left a job that shaped your daily life for years, and the new one has no familiar faces yet, no habits and no favourite place for coffee. The children have grown up and suddenly your calendar has free spaces you were dreaming of until recently, and now you wonder what to do with them. You have begun a new relationship, but part of your reactions still belong to the previous one. You have retired, and the first two weeks look wonderful, until on Monday morning you realise that nobody expects you to be anywhere at nine.

A big change may have an exact date, but the inner transition lives by a calendar of its own. I can sign a document in an hour, move the boxes over one weekend and start work on Monday, while my sense of belonging arrives considerably later. One part of me is already walking ahead; another still compares, remembers and out of habit looks back. I expect to feel like a new person straight after the change, and then I wake on Tuesday and I am the same person, only among different furniture. That is exactly what the bridge is.

If you have chosen this image, look at what has already ended in your life but keeps shaping the way you live today. You may still be keeping the routine from the old job although you work elsewhere. You may be looking at a new person through the experience of a previous relationship. You may have moved, while putting off the small things through which the new place gradually becomes yours. The children may already have a world of their own, while you still organise your days around the role you had for years.

The opposite picture is possible too: outwardly life looks almost the same, while inwardly you began saying goodbye to it long ago. You go to work, do everything as always, and sense that this chapter has already been read for you. You live in the same place but are mentally creating your next home. A relationship formally continues, while inside yourself you are already going through the parting. The bridge can also appear before the visible change, because inner departure often has a starting date of its own.

And that is precisely when the most important theme of this Messenger arrives — what I carry over with me. Not one big change begins from a blank page. From the old job I can take the skills, the experience and the people who matter to me, and leave the habit of being available at any hour where it came from. From a relationship that has ended I can take what I have learned about closeness, about my wishes and about my limits. From the years in which the children needed me every day I can keep the closeness with them, and gradually turn the freed-up time into space for my own life. The bridge does not want me to throw out the past. It makes me choose what deserves to cross over with me.

That is why no. 6 has its own very precise moment. The door appears before the decision. The train comes when time already matters. The staircase leads to growth. The bridge begins after the first step, when my life is already changing and I have to find my place in its next version.

If you dream of bridges

Write down first where you are on the bridge. Are you at the beginning, in the middle, or already close to the far end? Can you see both shores? Is the bridge solid, narrow, high, long, swaying? Are you walking alone? Are you carrying luggage? Do you turn back? Does someone stay on the other side? Is someone waiting ahead?

The luggage is especially interesting. If you are carrying heavy suitcases, bags or objects, write down what is in them, if you know. If you leave something along the way, notice how you feel afterwards. If you cross with empty hands, write down how you experience that lightness — as freedom, uncertainty, relief or the unknown.

The fog deserves attention as well. It may simply be speaking about the lack of enough experience of the next period. A person who started a new job three days ago can hardly know how he will feel there in a year. A person in a new city does not yet have a favourite route, familiar faces and his own “I will go past there, it is on my way”. The new life is unfamiliar at first, and only in time does it gather the details out of which belonging is born. Life rarely sends the season finale in advance.

If in the dream you keep turning towards one of the shores, write down what is there. A person? A home? A job? An object? A family? A particular role of yours? That may be exactly where the part of the previous period is that still wants to cross over with you or to be given its place in your story.

The small experiment — “What I take with me”

Divide a sheet of paper in two and write “I take with me” and “I leave on the old shore”. Choose the specific change you are going through and write down at least three things on each side.

If you have changed jobs, you may take the experience, the friendships and your confidence, while on the old shore stays the habit of checking your work email in the evening. If you have ended a relationship, you may take your ability to love, what you have learned about yourself and the good memories, while the old arguments stay in the old story. If the children have grown up, take the closeness and your family rituals, and begin gradually returning the free hours to yourself.

Then choose one small action that already belongs to the new shore. Unpack the last box. Change your morning rhythm. Go alone to a place you long connected with another person. Make a plan for the free Saturday. Invite someone to the new home. The new period begins to become yours through entirely ordinary details.

The Messenger's question: “What am I leaving behind me, what am I taking with me, and how do I begin to belong to my next life?”

Seven nights on the bridge

For seven evenings write before sleep: “What am I crossing over into?” In the morning write down the first three images you remember. Watch for bridges, rivers, borders, harbours, tunnels, thresholds, corridors, moving house, luggage, old and new homes, unfamiliar cities and any scene in which you leave one space and enter another.

Pay attention to the direction as well. Are you going back to a familiar place? Are you carrying on ahead? Are you losing your luggage? Are you carrying far too much? Does someone walk with you only halfway? Does a place appear that you do not yet know and that draws you all the same?

During the day write down one moment in which you reacted according to your old life, and one in which you did something belonging to the new one. After seven days compare the notes. You may see very clearly how far you have already come and which part of you is still waving from the opposite shore, hoping the bus will turn around.

The mandala of transition

Look at the mandala for two or three minutes and allow your gaze to move slowly from the outer circles towards the centre. As you follow it, go back in your mind to the period you are leaving and ask yourself: “What in that life has already ended for me?” Then move your attention inward and ask: “What do I want to take with me?” At the end leave your gaze in the centre and finish the sentence: “In the next period of my life I want there to be more …”

Write down the first thing that comes to you. It may be a word, a person, a place, a sensation, a wish or a very specific change. Do not look for a beautiful answer. If the first thought is “more time for me”, and the second immediately begins explaining why that is complicated, write down the first one. The inner accountant can join in after the exercise.

Sound meditation — “Between the two shores”

Play the sound meditation and close your eyes. Picture a bridge in light fog. Behind you is the place you are coming from. It may be a home, a relationship, a job, a role in life or a whole period of it. Look at it and ask: “What has already ended?” Then see what you are carrying with you and ask: “What do I want to keep?”

When you reach the middle of the bridge, stay there for a while. The two shores are behind you and ahead of you, and you already belong both to the story you have lived and to the life you are beginning to create. Ask: “What still connects me with the old shore?” Then carry on ahead and let the last question stay with you until the sound ends: “What do I want to begin creating on the other side?”

After the meditation write down only three short answers: I leave — I take — I begin.

A small ritual — “What crosses over with me”

Choose one small object from the period you are leaving behind you, but only one that carries something you want to keep — a photograph, a book, a piece of jewellery, a pebble from a journey, a letter, a small gift or another personal sign. Place two sheets of paper a few steps apart. On one write “Up to here”, on the other — “From here on”.

Stand by the first sheet with the object in your hand and name what you want to take with you from that period: experience, love, courage, knowledge, friendship, confidence, a memory. Then cross the distance between the two sheets and place the object on “From here on”. Say only: “This comes with me.”

Leave the object in plain sight over the next seven days. That way the ritual no longer repeats the list from the exercise. It gives a physical shape to something far more important: in a change I do not lose the whole of my previous life. Part of it becomes a resource for the next one.

Over the next seven days write your dreams in the Moon & Tarot journal, especially the bridges, the borders, the moves, the luggage, the old and the new places. If one dream about crossing over keeps coming back, take exactly that one to Dream Interpretation in the Game of the Soul. A recurring bridge can reveal, in a most interesting way, how you live through change and which part of your previous life is still travelling with you. Because a moment comes when you look back and understand something strange — the fog is still there, but the old shore is already further away than the new one.

7The Mirror with the Different Reflection — The Messenger of the Image

You have chosen the mirror. You look at your own reflection, you recognise your face, and yet there is something different. You may look younger, older, stronger, more tired, more beautiful, braver, or simply like a version of yourself you are not used to seeing yet. The Messenger of the Image comes when my idea of myself begins to change and the old “I am that kind of person” no longer fully describes the person I am today. This can happen after a change in appearance, in age, in profession, in social standing, or in the way I am present among people. Sometimes the change is visible to everyone, and I am the last person to notice it.

Our own image has the remarkable ability to lag behind reality. I can have managed on my own for years and still think of myself as someone who needs to be led. I can have become a manager and inwardly still feel like the new employee who is about to ask where the files are kept. I can have lost weight, changed my hair, my style or the way I move, and when I look at myself my eyes automatically search for the person they are used to seeing. I can have passed fifty and discover that my idea of how a person at that age “should” look has almost nothing in common with the way I feel.

This Messenger has to do with the image I hold of myself now. It includes self-confidence, appearance, age, femininity or masculinity, professional role, social standing and the way I believe others see me. I can feel attractive and still find it hard to accept attention. I can be recognised for my work and inwardly keep waiting for someone to establish that an administrative error has occurred. I can be the person everyone turns to for a decision, while in my own head I am still the one asking whether he has done everything properly. The mirror gathers precisely these discrepancies.

Age is an especially interesting part of this story. The body changes, the face changes, the way people react to me changes as well, while my inner sense of age may have an entirely separate calendar. One day I look at myself and see a line that was probably there yesterday too, but clearly we had not been formally introduced. Another time I see myself in a photograph and tell myself that I look far better than I decided in front of the mirror that morning. I may discover silver hair that I like more than the previous colour, change my style, begin wearing clothes I once considered “too much”, or simply stop dressing according to someone else's idea of what is suitable for my years.

The same happens with roles. I become a parent and have to get used to someone seeing me as their whole world. I get divorced and the social definition I have lived with for years changes. I am given a higher position and people begin to see me differently. I retire, and a professional role that took up an enormous part of my identity disappears from daily life. The children grow up, the business develops, I become more recognisable, I begin a new profession, or I simply enter a period in which I want to be present in a different way. Every such moment places a new mirror in front of me.

What is interesting is that other people's reactions also take part in my image. If for years I have heard that I am too quiet, difficult, sensitive, strong, weak, serious, ambitious, or “someone who will never …”, part of those definitions may have stayed in the way I look at myself. Then life changes, I change, and the old label keeps hanging there beautifully, as though nobody has informed the wardrobe that I no longer wear it. So it is worth asking which words I use about myself today and how many of them are actually mine.

If you have chosen the mirror, notice how you speak about yourself. How do you finish the sentences “I am a person who …”, “At my age …”, “I never …”, “I always …”? How do you react to a compliment? Do you accept it, play it down, or immediately explain why the person opposite has clearly been excessively generous? How do you look in a photograph according to you, and what do the people who love you see? In which role are you already different, while you still introduce yourself to yourself by the old name?

If you dream of mirrors and a different reflection

In a dream with a mirror, write down first what exactly is different in the reflection and how you feel when you see it. Do you look younger or older, with different hair, different clothes, a different expression or posture? Do you like the person in the mirror, does he surprise you, frighten you, attract you? Do you look at yourself for a long time or quickly turn your eyes away? Does the reflection repeat your movements or do something different?

If you look more confident in the dream, notice where in the daytime you already have that confidence but do not yet connect it with yourself. If you are older, write down what sensation that image carries — maturity, freedom, worry, dignity, tiredness. If you are younger, see what you connect that version of yourself with. If you are wearing clothes you would never choose in daily life, ask how you feel in them and what the person wearing them allows himself.

The reflection that looks at you differently is especially interesting. It may be smiling, serious, confident, sad or entirely calm, while you feel something else. Write down the difference. A dream can exaggerate the image in order to turn attention to the way I see myself, and to what is already beginning to change in that idea.

The small experiment — “Three mirrors”

Take a sheet of paper and write three short descriptions: “How I see myself”, “How I think others see me” and “What kind of person I am according to the life I actually lead”. In the first use the words you usually say about yourself. In the second write down how you imagine someone else's view. In the third let the facts speak: what decisions you make, what responsibilities you carry, what you have achieved, how you treat people, what you do on your own and in what you are already different from before.

Then compare the three descriptions and look for the biggest gap. You may write “insecure”, while in reality you run a team, a family or a business of your own. You may be convinced that others see you as cold, while people keep coming to you with their most personal stories. You may think you are already “too old” for something, while your daily life is full of plans, curiosity and new beginnings. It is precisely the distance between these three mirrors that is interesting.

The Messenger's question: “Which person do I see when I look at myself today, and how much does that image resemble the person I already am?”

Seven nights with the Mirror

For seven evenings write before sleep: “What kind of person am I today?” In the morning write down the first three images you remember, and watch especially for mirrors, reflections, photographs, faces, clothes, hair, make-up, masks, names, professions, age, and situations in which someone looks at you or tells you something about yourself. Write down as well how you feel when you are seen — confident, uneasy, beautiful, uncomfortably noticed, proud, surprised, or as though you are playing a role.

During the day add one moment in which you received a reflection from outside — a compliment, criticism, thanks, a request for help, an invitation, recognition, or someone's reaction to you. Write down your first inner reaction and then ask yourself whether you accept what was said, or automatically pass it over to your old idea of yourself. On the seventh day read everything together and see which image repeats. You may discover that for a week the people and the dreams have been giving you back a version of yourself that you are still examining a little suspiciously.

The mandala of the image

Place the mandala in front of you and look at it for two or three minutes, letting your gaze move gradually from the outer circles towards the centre. As you follow it, name in your mind three of your qualities that you recognise easily today. Then add one that other people see in you more often than you admit it yourself.

When your gaze reaches the centre, close your eyes and picture your own reflection. Let it appear just as it comes, and ask: “What is already different in me?” Then finish two sentences: “Today I am a person who …” and “I can already see myself as …” Write down the first endings and read them again after seven days. One word may seem strange at first and sound entirely natural a week later.

Sound meditation — “The reflection”

Play the sound meditation “The reflection”, close your eyes and picture a large mirror in front of you. See the person you are today, with your present face, body, age, experience and life. Stay in front of that image for a while and ask: “How do I see myself?” Then imagine that the reflection gradually frees itself of all the definitions you have carried for a long time — age, profession, family role, other people's judgements and old ideas — and look at its face again.

Ask the second question: “What in me has already changed?”, and towards the end leave only one: “How do I want to be present in my life now?” After the meditation write down three words for the person you saw. Choose one of them and over the next seven days watch in which real situations it is already part of you.

A small ritual — “The new portrait”

Choose a photograph of yourself from the last few months that you like, or that for some reason draws your attention. Look at it for a while and write underneath: “This person already …” Finish the sentence five times with specific things from your present life — what you can already do, what you have lived through, what you have begun to choose, what you have allowed yourself, and in what you have become stronger.

Then add one last sentence: “From today I will allow myself to see myself as a person who …” Leave the photograph and what you have written in a place you will see over the next seven days. Every time the old idea of you appears automatically, look at the facts of your present life. The mirror may have an opinion, the photograph too, the relatives certainly do, but your biography already has some rather serious evidence.

Over the next seven days write your dreams in the Moon & Tarot journal, especially the mirrors, the reflections, the photographs, the faces, the clothes and the moments in which you look different or someone sees you in an unusual way. If a dream with a different reflection keeps coming back, take exactly that one to Dream Interpretation in the Game of the Soul. The mirror in a dream may exaggerate, change the age, the face and the whole image, but the most interesting question stays entirely down to earth: when I look at myself today, do I see the person I have actually become?

8The Telephone That Rings — The Messenger of the Unspoken

You have chosen the telephone. It rings, the screen lights up, you reach for it and expect to hear something, but there is silence on the other side. Or you see a name you have long been waiting to appear. Or you try to make a call and the number keeps coming out wrong. Dreams are rather inventive when they want to turn one ordinary conversation into a whole telephone exchange. The Messenger of the Unspoken comes when there are words between me and someone else that have not yet reached their place — a question, an explanation, a confession, some information, an apology, a clarification, a request, a truth, or that one sentence I have been editing in my head for three days and which already has more versions than an official document.

This Messenger has to do with communication. I may be waiting for a call after an interview, a medical test, an application, a meeting or an important conversation. I may have a question for someone and keep putting off asking it, because I assume what the answer will be. I may have received a message that allows five different interpretations, and have already successfully developed a sixth. Someone may have said something in passing, I understood one thing, he meant another, and out of that modest material two people manage to build a magnificent misunderstanding.

There are words I put off because the conversation feels uncomfortable. I want to tell someone close that something hurt me, to ask what he actually meant, to ask a colleague for more clarity, to tell my employer what I expect, to admit a mistake, to say thank you, to ask for help, or simply to say one sentence I have long rehearsed on my own. In my head the conversation may have been held twenty-seven times, and in the best versions the other side naturally says exactly what I wrote for them. Real people, unfortunately, rarely read the script in advance.

The Messenger of the Unspoken can also appear when it is I who am waiting for the words. Someone promised to call. I am waiting for an answer to a proposal, an explanation after a strange situation, a result, a confirmation, an apology, or one clear sentence about a person's intentions. Then the silence begins producing content by itself. “He is probably busy.” “He has probably changed his mind.” “Perhaps he does not know what to say.” “He is clearly waiting for me to write.” The longer the information is missing, the more versions I can create, and imagination rarely limits itself to one.

That is why with this Messenger it is useful to separate what I know from what I assume. If someone has not replied, the fact is that there is no answer yet. Everything else is, for now, my version. If a person has said “we will talk”, I can imagine what that means, but the exact sense belongs to the next conversation. If someone's words have confused me, one question often does more work than two days of internal investigation with five suspects and no witnesses.

And there are words that have stayed in me so long that I have grown used to their presence. “I want you to know …” “That hurt me.” “I need to ask you …” “Thank you for …” “I am sorry about …” “I did not understand what you meant.” “I want us to talk about …” The sentence itself may be quite short, while around it I have built an enormous advance story about the other person's reaction. The Messenger of the Unspoken brings attention back to the words: what is it that I actually want to say or to hear?

If you have chosen the telephone, notice which conversations you have been holding in your mind these past few days. Who are you explaining something to when the person is not even in the room? Whose name do you check on your screen? Which message do you write, delete and start again? Which question are you avoiding, because the answer may change the way you understand the situation? Is there information you are waiting for before you can carry on? It is precisely among these small everyday scenes that the conversation the Messenger has come to light up is usually found.

If you dream of telephones, messages and conversations

In dreams with a telephone, the most interesting thing is what happens to the connection. Is the telephone ringing, can you see who is calling, do you manage to answer, can you hear the voice, does the line cut off? Are you trying to dial a number and keep getting the digits wrong? Are you writing a message you cannot send? Are you reading a text that disappears? Are you receiving a call from an unknown number? Or are you talking with someone, and after waking you remember only one sentence of his?

If the telephone rings and you cannot answer it, write down whom you are expecting to hear and what you think he wants to tell you. If you are the one calling and nobody answers, notice which words you wanted to say. If the line cuts off at a particular moment, try to reconstruct the last sentence before the break. If the screen shows a name that surprises you, write down your first reaction. And if there is only silence on the other side, ask: “What was I hoping most to hear?” The answer itself may be more interesting than the unknown caller.

The telephone in the dream may be old, broken, out of battery, without a signal, or look entirely different from your real one. Write those details down as well, especially if the image repeats. They can help you see how you are living through communication at the moment — as easy, confused, interrupted, delayed, or waiting for the right words.

The small experiment — “Fact, assumption, question”

Choose one conversation or message you have been thinking about more than usual, and divide a sheet of paper into three parts: “I know”, “I assume” and “I want to ask”. In the first write down only the facts. For example: “I sent a message on Tuesday. I received a short reply. We have no next meeting arranged.” In the second put all the explanations your mind has already created: “I think he has lost interest”, “He is probably busy”, “Perhaps he is waiting for me to suggest meeting”. In the third, turn the most important unknown into a clear question.

Then read only the third part. You may discover that for a story which already takes up half your thoughts, what you actually lack is one sentence. Decide whether you can ask it directly, whether there is a suitable moment for a conversation, or whether the information will come in another real way. The point is to see where words can bring clarity, before imagination is appointed official spokesman for the other person.

The Messenger's question: “Which words are waiting to be said or heard?”

Seven nights with the Telephone

For seven evenings write before sleep: “Which words are waiting to be said or heard?” In the morning write down the first three images you remember, and watch especially for telephones, letters, messages, names, voices, conversations, books, notes, signatures, numbers, screens and people trying to tell you something. If you remember specific words from the dream, write them down exactly as they came, even if they sound strange or have no obvious meaning.

During the day add one moment in which you kept something to yourself, wanted to ask a question, waited for an answer, or realised that you had made an assumption without enough information. On the seventh day read the night notes and the day notes together and see which communication theme repeats. It may turn out that the dreams keep swapping the telephones for letters, unfamiliar voices and strange messages, while one and the same question keeps waiting for its words.

The mandala of the unspoken

Place the mandala in front of you and look at it for two or three minutes, letting your gaze move gradually towards the centre. During the first minute think about the words you are waiting to hear. During the second turn your attention to what you yourself want to say. Then stay for a while with only one specific person or conversation.

Close your eyes and finish three sentences: “I want to tell you …” “I want to ask you …” “I want to hear …” Write down the first ending for each. Then circle the sentence that carries the most clarity for you. It may be the beginning of a real conversation, a text you will first write only for yourself, or a question you have finally put precisely.

Sound meditation — “The words between us”

Play the sound meditation “The words between us”, close your eyes and picture a telephone in front of you. The screen lights up and on it appears the name of a person with whom you have an unfinished conversation. Let the name come by itself. It may be someone from your daily life, someone you have not spoken to for a long time, or a face you did not expect at all.

Imagine that you accept the call and are allowed to say only three sentences. Ask: “What do I want this person to know?”, then “What do I want to ask him?”, and finally “What do I most want to hear?” Let the imagined conversation carry on briefly, without editing the lines and without inventing the ideal answer on the other person's behalf.

When it ends, write down your three sentences and what you imagined hearing. Look at the last one separately and ask yourself: “Is this information I actually have, or are these the words I would like to hear?” The difference matters and may give you far more clarity than the imagined scene itself.

A small ritual — “The message I have not sent yet”

Take a sheet of paper and write the name of the person the unspoken words are meant for. Underneath write the message as you would write it if you knew there was no need to explain too much, to defend yourself, or to anticipate every possible reaction in advance. Allow yourself one paragraph. Then cut it down to three sentences, and finally to one sentence that holds the essence.

Leave the sheet until the next day and then read it again. Decide what place that sentence has in reality — a conversation, a question, a message, a personal realisation, or simply clarity about what you actually wanted to say. The very act of writing already separates the real words from all the rehearsals around them. And if you decide to have the conversation, at least you will not have to begin with those fourteen paragraphs you prepared in your head under the shower.

Over the next seven days write your dreams in the Moon & Tarot journal, especially the telephones, the messages, the letters, the names, the voices and the sentences you remember after waking. If a dream with a call, a broken connection, an unsent message or a person trying to tell you something keeps coming back, take exactly that one to Dream Interpretation in the Game of the Soul. After seven nights you may discover that behind the whole complicated story one entirely simple sentence is waiting. And this time you already know how it begins.

9The Person with No Clear Face — The Messenger of Connection

You have chosen the person with no clear face. You know there is someone in front of you, you feel their presence, you may even feel closeness, attraction, trust, unease or the strange sense that you know them, but the face stays unclear. The Messenger of Connection comes when my attention is turned towards the other person and the way I am with them. It may be a present partner, a past love, a friend, a relative, someone I am only beginning to know, or someone the dream creates without any particular identity. What matters is what happens between us. In dreams, relationships too clearly have the right to anonymous profiles.

This Messenger has to do with connection — with closeness, distance, mutuality, trust, attraction, my place beside another person, and those patterns I manage to carry from one story into the next with remarkable consistency. I may constantly choose people I have to prove myself to. I may feel wonderful at the beginning of a relationship, and once the closeness becomes real, begin looking for more air. I may be the one who gives a great deal and then waits for the other person to work out on their own what I am missing. I may be drawn to people who are hard for me to read, and spend half the relationship trying to understand what the full stop after “good night” means.

The person with no clear face can also appear when there is a particular person in my life whom I cannot yet understand. I meet someone and do not know what place they will have in my life. The relationship develops, but their behaviour stays hard to read. I have a friendship that has changed, and I am still looking for its new shape. There is someone in my family I am both close to and very different from. I may be in a long relationship and suddenly realise that the person beside me has changed over the years, as I have changed too, and that the two of us have yet to get to know each other in our present versions.

And there are moments when a particular face is not needed at all. I can dream of a stranger with whom I feel astonishing closeness, and after waking miss a person who has never existed in my daily life. Then it is worth remembering what the connection between us was like. Did I feel wanted, understood, protected, free, equal, curious, drawn? How did we spend our time? Was there lightness, adventure, tenderness, passion, friendship, security? The faceless face can leave the experience of closeness itself in the foreground, and so help me see what I am looking for in my relationships.

The Messenger of Connection can also appear around absence. After a parting, the person is no longer in my daily life, but the place they occupied can still be felt. A friend moves to another city, a child builds a life of their own, someone close becomes more distant, or an important relationship changes its shape. Then the question is how I live through the connection with that person now — how much room it takes, what I expect from it, and what I keep looking for through it.

If you have chosen this image, look at the people who take up the most room in your thoughts at the moment. Beside whom do you feel most yourself? With whom are you constantly trying to work out where you stand? Who pulls at you although you can hardly explain why? Into which relationship do you put more than you receive, and in which is someone trying to come closer while you choose a comfortable distance? What kind of people appear again and again in your life, even though the names, the professions and the haircuts keep changing?

The recurring pattern is especially interesting. If three different relationships begin beautifully and after a few months reach one and the same point, it may make sense to look at the dynamic itself. If I always turn out to be the rescuer, the one who waits, the one who pursues, the strong one, the one who adapts, or the one who moves away first, that is already information about the way I take part in my relationships. The other person is different in every story, but my role may prove to be suspiciously well rehearsed.

If you dream of a person with no clear face

With such a dream, try first to remember the relation between you, before you try to establish who the person is. Are they close to you or far away? Are you walking together, touching, embracing, are you looking for them, waiting for them, following them, or trying to move away? Is their presence familiar to you? Do you have the sense that you love them, that you trust them, or that you have to be careful?

Write down the place as well. If you are at home, on the road, at a celebration, in a hotel, by the sea or among strangers, notice how that changes the feeling between you. If the face begins to become clearer, remember which detail appears first — the eyes, the smile, the hair, the voice, the hands. If the person changes their face during the dream, look at what stays the same in your relation.

If the faceless person appears repeatedly, compare the dreams. Do they come closer over time? Do they move away? Are you talking by now? Do they appear in different places? Do you feel freer beside them? Those changes can be more interesting than trying at all costs to find a real person who resembles the figure from the dream.

The small experiment — “My role beside the other”

Choose three important relationships from your life — they may be romantic, friendly or family ones — and for each finish one sentence: “Beside this person I am most often …” Write the first word that comes: free, careful, strong, amusing, insecure, caring, small, brave, waiting, full of initiative, silent, jealous, protected, responsible.

Then look at the three words and ask yourself which role repeats. If beside different people you constantly turn into the one who takes care of everything, that deserves attention. If one relationship is the only place where you can be vulnerable, that too is information. If around a certain type of person you always begin to doubt yourself, write down what in the dynamic between you brings that on.

At the end finish: “In my relationships I want to be … more often.” Choose only one word. It may be “free”, “equal”, “seen”, “wanted”, “heard”, “calm”, “curious”, or one of your own. That way, instead of describing the ideal person with a catalogue of characteristics, you begin from the way you want to feel and to be present beside them.

The Messenger's question: “What am I looking for, living through or repeating in my relationships with others?”

Seven nights with the Other

For seven evenings write before sleep: “What am I living through in my relationships with others?” In the morning write down the first three images you remember, and pay special attention to the people. Who is close to you, who is leaving, whom are you looking for, who is waiting for you, with whom are you walking, whom are you embracing, whom are you hiding from? Write down the relations between you and the feeling on waking, without deciding straight away whom the person “represents”.

During the day note one situation in which you clearly felt your role beside someone. You may have taken on the responsibility, asked for closeness, given way, set a limit, allowed someone to take care of you, or simply felt wonderful in someone's company. On the seventh day read everything together and look for the repetition in the way you are with others. Different faces may be telling one and the same story.

The mandala of connection

Place the mandala in front of you and look at it for two or three minutes, letting your gaze move gradually towards the centre. Choose one important relationship, or let the person appear by themselves in your thoughts. Then picture the two of you facing each other and notice the distance between you. How do you feel at that distance? Do you want to come closer, to stay there, or to have more space?

Then finish three sentences: “Beside this person I am …” “From this relationship I receive …” “In this relationship I want more …” Write down the first answers. Then read only the last sentence and see whether what you want more of is present in your other relationships too. That way one particular person can turn your attention to a larger theme in the way you live through closeness.

Sound meditation — “Between two”

Play the sound meditation “Between two”, close your eyes and picture a large, bright space. From the far end of it a person is coming towards you, their face staying unclear. Let the figure choose for itself how close it will come, and notice your first reaction. Do you want to step forward, do you stay where you are, or do you increase the distance?

When the person stops, ask: “How do I feel beside you?” Then: “What role do I take when I am with you?” and finally: “How do I want to be in a close relationship?” Stay for a while with the last image and see whether the distance between you changes.

When it ends, write down three things: what your sensation was, which role you recognised, and what the closeness looked like in which you felt good. If a particular person appeared in the meditation, write down their name separately, but look at the dynamic as well. That is precisely the essence of this Messenger.

A small ritual — “The space between us”

Place two objects facing each other — two cups, two stones, two candles without lighting them, or two objects you can easily tell apart. One stands for you, the other for a person or for the kind of relationship you are thinking about. Place them at a distance that intuitively seems true for your relationship at the moment.

Look at them and finish: “Between us there is …” “From you I expect …” “Beside you I want to be able to be …” Then move only your own object to the place where you would like it to be. You may bring it closer, move it further away, or leave it exactly where it is. Write down what you changed and why. That small scene can show astonishingly clearly how you live through closeness, because distance often says a great deal before we have found the right words.

Over the next seven days write your dreams in the Moon & Tarot journal, especially the people with no clear face, the strangers who feel close, the former partners, the friends, the relatives and all the scenes of meeting, parting, coming closer or keeping distance. If the same person keeps returning, or different faces carry one and the same sensation, take the dream to Dream Interpretation in the Game of the Soul. In time you may discover that the most important question is not who the person with no face is. Far more interesting is who you are when someone stands in front of you, and what connection the two of you create in the space between.

10The Labyrinth — The Messenger of Searching

You have chosen the labyrinth. You see the paths, you know there is an exit somewhere, and you have probably already tried several directions. One ended in a dead end, the second brought you back almost to where you began, the third looks promising until it suddenly turns towards a place that suspiciously resembles the first. The Messenger of Searching comes when I know roughly what I want but have not yet found the way to reach it. The goal may be entirely clear — a new job, more income, a solution to a complicated problem, the growth of a project, a way out of a tangled situation, or a way to change something in my life. The difficult part is that small, tiresome “how”.

The labyrinth appears in periods when I have tried one approach and it gave no result, then a second, and then went back to the first hoping that in the meantime it had somehow magically improved. I apply for jobs in the same way and get the same results. I try to increase my income by working even more, although the day stubbornly refuses to become thirty-six hours long. I develop a project, put in time and effort, but cannot find the right way to reach people. I have a problem and keep solving it with a means that has already proved several times how beautifully it does not work. At some point I begin to suspect that life forgot to include the instructions.

This Messenger has to do with method, with strategy and with the next possible move. With it, the wish is already clear enough. If I am looking for work, the question is how to reach the right job — through applications, contacts, a new skill, a different sector, or a change in the way I present my experience. If I want more money, I can look at the price of my labour, a new source of income, the expenses, a skill I can turn into a service, or a model that has already reached its ceiling. If I have a project, I can change the channel, the audience, the product, the partner, or the way I offer it. The goal stays in front of me, while the route is open to editing.

And that is often the hardest part. Once I have put a great deal of time into one road, I begin to grow attached to it. I have spent three years building something in a particular way and find it hard to admit that the next stage may require a different strategy. I studied for one profession, and the idea of using my knowledge in another field looks to me like a detour. I have tried to fix a situation through more effort, and I keep adding effort, as though on the tenth attempt the door will be impressed by my persistence and open on its own. The labyrinth, however, has one useful peculiarity: a dead end is information too. It tells me which route I have already checked.

If you have chosen the labyrinth, look at the situation about which you most often say to yourself, “I do not know how”. How do I find work? How do I reach more people? How do I get out of this financial model? How do I solve a problem that keeps repeating? How do I develop what I have begun? Then ask yourself a more specific question: what exactly have I already tried, and what result did I get? Many tangled situations look even more tangled because we hold all the attempts, ideas, fears and possibilities in our heads at once. When I get them out onto paper, the labyrinth suddenly acquires a map.

Sometimes the missing road is a person. I know what I want to do, but I lack knowledge that someone else already has. One conversation with a specialist, someone from the trade, a friend with the right experience, or someone who has already been through a similar situation, can save me weeks of wandering. In other cases what is missing is information, a skill, a resource or a different point of view. There are situations in which the next move is to learn something, to ask for help, to ask a better question, or to divide the enormous problem into three smaller ones. Life rarely hands out maps of the labyrinth at the entrance, but the people inside sometimes exchange rather useful notes.

It is especially important to notice whether I am looking for a new road or only a new version of the old one. If I send fifty identical applications, the fifty-first is one more attempt along the same route. If I change the CV, look for a direct contact, consider another sector or acquire a skill that is in demand, I am already checking a new direction. If a project is not reaching people and my only solution is to publish the same thing more often, I may have increased the speed without changing the road. The labyrinth asks what I can do differently, now that I know what happens along the familiar route.

If you dream of labyrinths and lost paths

In a dream with a labyrinth, write down first how you move in it. Do you walk confidently, run, go back, stop at the crossings, mark where you have been? Are you looking for an exit, a person, an object or a particular place? Can you see the centre or the end? Are the walls high, can you look over them, is there light, are there doors, stairs or places you recognise?

If you keep reaching a dead end, write down what you do next. Do you go back and choose another road, or start again along the same one? If you meet a person who knows the route, notice whether you follow them, ask them, or carry on alone. If you see the labyrinth from above, remember what you understand from that point of view. If you find the exit by chance, see what you did just before that. And if the dream ends while you are still searching, write down the last crossing. That may be where the most interesting question lies.

Follow what you feel as well. A labyrinth can be an adventure, a puzzle, tiresome wandering, or a place you desperately want to get out of. The sensation changes the whole story. If it interests you to search in the dream, in life you may be in a period of research and experiment. If you are exhausted by the wandering, it is probably worth looking at how long you have been using one and the same approach.

The small experiment — “The map of attempts”

Choose one specific problem and write in the middle of a sheet of paper what you want to achieve. Around it write all the roads you have already tried. Beside each one put the result: what worked, how far it brought you, where it stopped and what you learned. Then add at least three possibilities you have not checked so far. One may involve a new person, the second new knowledge, the third a different way of acting.

Then circle the smallest new move you can make over the next seven days. One conversation, one enquiry, one change, one meeting, one hour of research are enough. The aim of the experiment is to create new information. If the road works, you carry on. If it ends in a wall, you already know one more thing about the map. The labyrinth has this advantage — even when you go wrong, at least you learn where there is no point in turning for a fourth time.

The Messenger's question: “Where is my road through this situation, and which next move have I not tried yet?”

Seven nights in the Labyrinth

For seven evenings write before sleep: “Which road through this situation have I not seen yet?” Choose one specific theme and stay with it through the whole week. In the morning write down the first three images you remember, and watch especially for roads, crossings, maps, corridors, tunnels, doors, stairs, signposts, vehicles, people who lead you, and objects that help you find your direction.

Note how you decide which way to go and what happens after the choice. Do you turn back? Do you find a short cut? Do you receive help? Do you find something that changes the route? During the day write down one new move you have thought of, even if you do not yet know whether you will use it. On the seventh day gather all the ideas and see which ones repeat. You may have spent the whole week looking for an exit, while in the notes a person, some information, a skill or an action you have left off the map keeps appearing.

The mandala of searching

Place the mandala in front of you and look at it for two or three minutes. Let your gaze pass over the different circles and lines without trying to find the shortest route to the centre straight away. Choose one situation in which you are currently looking for a way, and ask yourself: “What have I already tried?” Then carry on with: “Where do I keep coming back?” and “What have I not checked yet?”

When your gaze reaches the centre, close your eyes and finish three sentences: “The road I already know is …” “What I lack most is …” “The next way I can check is …” Write down the first answers. The third sentence has to be specific enough for you to do something with it. If the answer is “I have to find the right road”, the labyrinth will probably ask for a few more details. And quite rightly so.

Sound meditation — “The way through the labyrinth”

Play the sound meditation “The way through the labyrinth”, close your eyes and imagine that you are standing at the entrance of a large labyrinth. You know what is at its centre — choose the specific goal you are looking for in your life at the moment. Go in and let the route appear gradually. When you reach the first fork, ask: “What do I already know about this situation?” Carry on until you meet an obstacle, and then ask the second question: “What do I lack in order to go on?”

Imagine that a little further along you find something that can help you — an object, a person, a map, a ladder, an opening, a sign, or an entirely unexpected image. Do not decide in advance what it will be. Take it and ask: “What does this stand for in my real life?” Towards the end of the sound, leave the last question: “Which is the next move I can check?”

After the meditation write down what you found and how you carried on. There is no need to reach the centre in your imagination. For this Messenger it is more interesting how you find the road, because that is precisely the theme it carries.

A small ritual — “The three roads”

Take three small slips of paper and on each write one different way in which you could approach your present situation. For example: “I ask a person with experience”, “I learn how it is done”, “I try a different approach”. If you already have specific options, write those down.

Place the three slips in different spots in front of you and stand before each one in turn. Imagine that over the coming month you have genuinely chosen that approach. What will you have to do first? What resource will you need? What new information will you get? With which option do you immediately see a specific first step? Write it on the slip in question.

Then choose one road as a trial for the next seven days. This is not a contract for eternity; you are simply checking a route. At the end of the week see how far it has brought you and decide whether you carry on, correct the direction, or check the other slip. A person gets out of a labyrinth far more easily once he stops expecting the first turn to be the final one.

Over the next seven days write your dreams in the Moon & Tarot journal, especially the labyrinths, the crossings, the corridors, the maps, the dead ends, the strange short cuts and the people or objects that help you carry on. If a dream of wandering, of searching for an exit or of constantly returning to one place keeps appearing, take exactly that one to Dream Interpretation in the Game of the Soul. After seven nights you may still not have the whole map, but you will already see something far more useful — the next road worth checking.

11The Forest with the Lit Path — The Messenger of Intuition

You have chosen the forest. Around you are many trees, shadows, possible directions and enough of the unknown for reason to ask for a map, a compass and probably someone from the council to confirm the route. And yet one path is lit, and your gaze keeps returning to it. The Messenger of Intuition comes when I do not yet have all the facts but already have a sensation that stubbornly repeats. I cannot fully explain it, I have no proof for a final conclusion, but something in me reacts in the same way every time I come back to a certain person, place, idea or situation.

This inner knowledge can be very quiet. I meet someone and after the first conversation already sense that I want to know them better. I look at a job advertisement and something in it draws me, although on paper it does not look like the obvious choice. I walk into a room and immediately feel good. I receive an offer that looks wonderful, and something in me tightens inexplicably. I read one sentence and it stays with me all day. I think about a certain place for several weeks and suddenly begin meeting it in conversations, photographs and chance references. The coincidences themselves may be accidental; what is interesting is why it is precisely those I notice and what they awaken in me.

Intuition has a particular language. It rarely arrives with a twelve-page report, appendices and a signature at the end. More often it is a short “yes”, “no”, “wait”, “look again”, “call”, “this matters”. Then reason arrives with its glasses, opens the folder and starts asking for arguments. And rightly so — for big decisions the facts matter. The Messenger of Intuition simply adds one more source of information: my own recurring inner reaction.

That is why it is useful to distinguish an intuitive sensation from momentary fear, from hope and from the wish to get one particular result. If I badly want someone to call me, every chance appearance of their name can look significant. If I am afraid of change, almost any unknown can produce an inner “no”. An intuitive sensation usually becomes more interesting when it stays similar over time, appears in different situations, and carries on existing even after the first emotion has passed.

I may, for example, talk with someone three times and leave each meeting with one and the same strange sensation, although the conversations were pleasant. I may keep returning for months to an idea about a course, a journey or a change, without anyone pushing me towards it. I may dream of a certain place, then come across a subject connected with it during the day, and feel strong curiosity. That still does not tell me what will happen. It tells me that something has drawn my attention strongly enough to deserve a closer look.

The moments when the body reacts before the thought are especially interesting. With one idea I feel expansion, a rush of energy, or the wish to learn more straight away. With another I shrink, begin putting things off, or feel tension every time the subject comes up. Those reactions also have a context and can come from earlier experience, fear, expectation or association, which is why I watch them over time. One instant is an impression. A recurring pattern is already a trace.

If you have chosen the forest, look at what has been coming back into your field of vision lately. Which idea appears from different places? Whom do you think of just before you hear from them? Which subject do you dream of and then notice during the day? Where do you have a strong sensation you cannot yet translate into the language of logic? And above all — what is your sensation before you begin explaining it? It is precisely the first few seconds that can be interesting, because after them the inner advocate is already on his feet and ready to plead for both sides.

If you dream of forests and lit paths

In a dream with a forest, notice first the direction that draws your attention. Is there one path or several? Are you walking along one of them? Is it light ahead? Can you see the end? Do you know the place? Is anyone walking with you? Is there an animal, a person, a light or a sound that makes you change direction? Write down the moment in which you decide which way to carry on, because with this Messenger it is the sensation immediately before the movement that is especially important.

If you see a lit path and set off along it with curiosity, write down what you connect that feeling with in your present life. If the path draws you but you stay where you are, see what stops you. If you are walking through a dark forest and light suddenly appears, remember what happened just before it. If you are following a person or an animal, write down what you feel towards them. If the path disappears, see whether you carry on, turn back, or find another landmark.

The details that repeat can be especially valuable — the same colour, animal, tree, place, number, direction, light or object. Instead of giving them a universal meaning straight away, collect them. After a few dreams you may see which situations from your own life they appear alongside. That way the symbol gradually acquires a personal meaning.

The small experiment — “The first five seconds”

Choose one subject about which you have contradictory thoughts, and write its question down in one sentence. Then close your eyes for a moment, read the question again and catch the first reaction before you begin analysing it. Write it down in one word: lightness, tightening, curiosity, joy, tension, wanting, tiredness, warmth, resistance, or a word of your own.

Repeat the exercise on three different days, and do not look at the previous answers before you write the new one. At the end compare them. If the reaction changes with your mood, that is information too. If one and the same word appears all three times, give it more attention and look for what in reality supports it. Intuition can open a direction for checking, and the facts help you understand what there actually is along that path.

The Messenger's question: “What do I already sense before I can explain it?”

Seven nights in the Forest

For seven evenings write before sleep: “What do I already sense before I can explain it?” In the morning write down the first three images you remember and add the first sensation on waking. Watch especially for paths, lights, forests, animals, stars, directions, colours, numbers, places and people that appear more than once.

During the day write down one unusual coincidence, a strong premonition, or a moment in which you had a clear inner “yes” or “no”. Beside it add what actually happened afterwards. It is this last part that matters. After seven days you will no longer have only the memory that “I think I sensed it”, but a small personal archive in which you can see which sensations repeat, which coincidences were simply curious, and when your inner reaction genuinely matched what followed.

The mandala of intuition

Place the mandala in front of you and look at it for two or three minutes, without choosing in advance what to focus on. Let your eyes keep returning to a certain part by themselves and watch which one draws your attention again. Then close your eyes and imagine that this image is the beginning of a path.

Ask yourself three questions one after another: “What do I already sense?” “What makes me doubt that sensation?” “What can I observe in reality in order to check it?” Write down the first answers. The third is especially important, because it turns the inner sensation into an observation. If I feel that a project has potential, I can run a small test. If I sense distance in a relationship, I can watch the behaviour and the mutuality. If a certain direction keeps drawing me, I can learn more about it. That way the path is given a few entirely down-to-earth steps as well.

Sound meditation — “The light between the trees”

Play the sound meditation “The light between the trees”, close your eyes and imagine that you are walking through a forest towards evening. In front of you are several possible directions, and there is no need to choose straight away. Stay for a while in the place from which you can see them, and ask: “Which direction draws my attention?”

When one path begins to stand out, set off along it in your imagination and watch how you feel with every following step. After a while ask the second question: “What do I know about this direction without explanation?” Let a word, an image or a bodily sensation appear. Towards the end, stop where you have got to and ask: “What in my real life can I observe in order to understand more?”

After the meditation write down three things: the path, the first sensation, and what you want to check in reality. There is no need for the imagined forest to reveal the ending to you. It is enough to notice where the light keeps drawing your gaze.

A small ritual — “The sign I check”

Choose one specific subject and write on a small sheet of paper: “I sense that …” Finish the sentence as simply as possible. Underneath make two fields: “What supports it” and “What calls it into question”. Over the next seven days add only real observations — an event, a piece of behaviour, some information, a repetition, a conversation, or a reaction of your own.

At the end of the seventh day read the sheet all at once and see how your first sensation looks after a week of observation. It may have become clearer, it may have changed, or it may have opened an entirely different subject. This is especially useful with signs and coincidences, because a person has a fine memory for the ones that confirm what he expects and a rather more scattered one for the rest.

Over the next seven days write your dreams in the Moon & Tarot journal, especially the images that repeat, the paths, the lights, the animals, the numbers, the places and those strange coincidences between the night's dream and the following day. If one image keeps coming back or the dream leaves an unusually strong sensation, take exactly that one to Dream Interpretation in the Game of the Soul. In time you may gather something far more valuable than a list of universal “signs” — your own map of the way your inner sensation speaks with you.

12The Stopped Clock — The Messenger of the Past

You have chosen the stopped clock. The hands have stayed at one hour, as though time has carried on everywhere else while one part of your story still keeps its own date. The Messenger of the Past comes when something that happened before carries on taking part in the way I live today. It may be a parting, a decision, a missed opportunity, a promise, a family story, a mistake, a success, a loss, or a period that ended long ago by the calendar but left a rule, an expectation or a conclusion behind it. The clock has stopped, I have carried on, and the old moment clearly still holds a staff pass to the present.

The past rarely comes back only as a memory. More often I recognise it in my present reactions. I once lost money, and now every financial change makes me expect the same result. One relationship ended suddenly, and years later I become especially careful when closeness starts to turn serious. Some time ago I turned down an opportunity, and today every similar offer carries the old “but what would have happened if …”. I may also have lived through a great success and still compare everything after it with that period when things were going beautifully. The past has its influence through its good times as well; nostalgia has a talent for editing the old footage and leaving in the best lighting.

This Messenger can also appear around a decision I made about myself after a particular event. After a betrayal I decided that I have to be more careful. After a failure I told myself that this field is clearly not for me. After a hard financial period I began keeping everything “just in case”. After years in which everyone needed me, I may still feel guilty when I choose my own time. The event itself has stayed behind, but the conclusion I drew then may have become part of my everyday rules.

Family history can also have a stopped clock of its own. In one family a certain loss is remembered for decades. In another an old conflict has formally ended, while the next generation carries on living with its divisions. Somewhere the story is kept of the man who took a risk and lost everything, and after that security becomes a family value. Elsewhere one great success turns into the bar against which all following generations measure themselves. I may even have inherited an account of an event I did not live through myself but have heard so many times that it has become part of my idea of the world.

If you have chosen the clock, notice which moments you return to with the phrases “ever since …”, “after that …”, “if back then …”, “I used to be …”. Which event do you use as a border between two versions of your life? Which old mistake still takes part in your present decisions? Which success is still the measure you compare the present with? Which promise did you make to yourself in entirely different circumstances and are still keeping, without having checked recently whether you need it?

The moments when the present resembles the past only slightly, while my reaction is as though the old story is happening again, are especially interesting. The new person is late with an answer and I already hear the echo of a previous relationship. The new employer makes a remark and an old sensation from a job I left years ago comes back in me. My child makes a decision that reminds me of a mistake of my own, and suddenly I am reacting more to my story than to theirs. Then it is worth asking myself: how much of my reaction belongs to this moment, and how much of it came with me from another one?

There is also a past I return to because I left something valuable there. A dream I abandoned. A profession I once loved. Courage I had in a certain period. A promise to myself. A place where I felt especially alive. The old moment can remind me of a resource, a wish or a direction that still matter. Then the question is what from that period deserves a place in my present life.

If you dream of stopped clocks and past times

In a dream with a clock, write down first the exact hour, if you remember it. Then see whether it has a personal association — an age, a date, the time of an event, a meeting, a departure, a phone call, or another detail from your story. If no connection comes to mind, simply keep it in the journal. A number that repeats may acquire meaning later through other dreams or daytime events.

Follow how the clock looks as well. Is it an old wall clock, a wristwatch, an alarm clock, a clock from your childhood home? Are you trying to set it right? Do the hands start moving again? Is anyone else looking at the time? Are you late for an event that has already passed? Do you find yourself in an old home, a school, a previous workplace or a city from another period? Do you meet people as they were years ago?

If in the dream you are a certain age again, notice what is happening around you. If an old place looks exactly as you remember it, see how your present version feels inside it. If the clock starts, write down what happens just before that. If it stays stopped, see whether you carry on looking at it or at some point move away. Those small actions can be more interesting than the hour itself.

The small experiment — “Back then I decided that …”

Choose one moment from the past that often comes back into your thoughts, and write: “After that I decided that …” Finish the sentence five times without editing the answers. For example: “I have to rely only on myself”, “I must not take risks with money”, “love ends suddenly”, “I always have to be useful”, “I have already missed my chance”.

Then read each sentence and add: “That rule helped me back then through …” and “Today it affects …” That way the old decision is given a context. Some rules were very sensible at the moment they appeared, and years later they carry on working with their old job description.

At the end choose one and rewrite it for your present life. If the old one was “I always have to manage on my own”, the present version may be “I can manage on my own and I can ask for help when it is useful to me”. If it was “it is too late now”, the new sentence may hold what is specifically possible today. The point is to see which rule from the past you are still using and whether your present life needs the same version of it.

The Messenger's question: “Which part of my story still takes part in my life today?”

Seven nights with the Stopped Clock

For seven evenings write before sleep: “Which part of my story still takes part in my life today?” In the morning write down the first three images you remember, and watch especially for clocks, dates, numbers, old homes, schools, previous workplaces, photographs, letters, objects from childhood, clothes from another period, and people who look younger in the dream.

Write down as well how old you feel in the dream. You may look as you do today but feel as though you are twenty. You may be in your childhood home at your present age. Someone from the past may appear in a situation from the present. It is precisely these mixtures of times that deserve attention.

During the day note one moment in which a present situation reminded you of the past. Write down what happened now and which old memory came with it. On the seventh day read everything at once and see whether one age, period, place or theme repeats. That way you can gradually tell which old story keeps being given new roles in your present life.

The mandala of the past

Place the mandala in front of you and look at its outer circle for two or three minutes, then let your gaze move gradually inward. Choose one period of your life your thoughts often return to. Do not look for an explanation straight away; first allow a place, an age, a person, an object or a short scene to appear.

When your gaze reaches the centre, finish three sentences: “From that time I still carry …” “Back then I learned …” “Today I want to use this story through …” Write down the first endings. Then read the three together and see which belongs to the memory and which still has a place in your present life. The past has already given the material; now you decide what meaning it has today.

Sound meditation — “The hour I remember”

Play the sound meditation “The hour I remember”, close your eyes and picture a room with a clock. Its hands have stopped at a particular hour. Look at them and let one period from the past appear in your mind. It may be a specific day or a whole year. Allow the scene to choose for itself how far back it takes you.

Imagine that you enter that period briefly as the person you are today. Look around the place and ask: “What from what happened then do I still carry?” Then look at your younger version and ask the second question: “What did I learn from you?” Finally, come back to the clock and ask: “What from this story do I want to use differently today?”

Let the scene move gradually away and come back to the present. When it ends, write down three short answers: I carry — I learned — today I choose. They are enough. The whole archive can stay closed; for this practice you only need the folder that is still in use.

A small ritual — “The letter through time”

Choose a photograph of yourself from a period that still matters to you, or write on a sheet of paper the year and your age at the time. Place it in front of you and write a short letter to the person you were. Tell them what from that time you still carry, what you are grateful to them for, and what in your life has already changed.

Then write underneath one sentence beginning with: “From this story I take with me …” Choose only one — knowledge, courage, love, experience, a warning, a dream, a skill, or something entirely personal. Leave the letter overnight and read it the next day. Put it away with the photograph or place it in your journal. That way the old moment is given its own place in your story, instead of appearing every time in the front row without an invitation.

Over the next seven days write your dreams in the Moon & Tarot journal, especially the hours, the dates, the old homes, the photographs, the people from earlier periods and the scenes in which the present and the past mix strangely. If one old moment keeps coming back in different dreams, take exactly that one to Dream Interpretation in the Game of the Soul. After seven nights you may see more clearly which part of your story is still writing lines for today — and which words you now want to write from your present age.