I’ve always loved dreams. Friends, family members, and clients often share theirs with me because they know I’m endlessly fascinated by the symbolic language of the night — and at least moderately skilled at interpreting it.
Recently, I had a dream about a little black puppy.
In the dream, I was preparing for a flight when someone asked if I could transport a small black puppy for them. They assured me that although it wasn’t ideal, I could tuck her into my checked luggage. I agreed. (Please don’t report my dream‑self to the authorities, and I promise not to report yours.)
The puppy was zipped into my suitcase and loaded onto the plane. When I retrieved my bag at baggage claim, I immediately unzipped it. The puppy was alive, but lethargic — overheated, distressed, and clearly in need of care. Before I could get her outside, she relieved herself all over the floor. Dreams can be so dramatic in the gross‑out department.
As I tended to her, an enormous dog appeared out of nowhere and swallowed her whole.
Now, you should know: I’m not naturally a “dog person.” I take excellent care of my husband’s two rescue dogs, but I didn’t grow up with animals, and as a recovering codependent, I don’t need more beings depending on me. So what happened next was wildly out of character.
I grabbed the big dog’s jaws, pried them open, and pushed its puppy‑filled mouth toward a pair of disembodied hands that appeared just in time to rescue her.
Sitting With the Dream
This dream arrived in a season of pure joy and gratitude — a time when life felt full of goodness, connection, and beauty. The dream didn’t match the moment, but I held it gently until my next session with my Spiritual Companion.
As we sat with it, something became clear: I felt responsible for saving that puppy.
As a recovering codependent, the impulse to rescue others is familiar. But the more we explored, the more obvious it became that I was the little black puppy — or at least a part of me was.
Many years ago, I walked through something deeply painful involving people I love. I worked hard to tend to the individuals and the relational system so we could move forward. What I didn’t do was tend to my own soul with the same devotion.
A part of me — the little black puppy — was zipped up, carried along, and technically “made it,” but she arrived needing care. Every time I tried to tend to her, something big would come along and pull my attention back to caring for others.
In the dream, the Holy Spirit showed me what I had forgotten: I am not the one who saves. I am the one who needs saving. I am the one who needs fierce love and tender care.
Receiving Fierce Mothering From God
Since this dream, I’ve been sitting each morning and receiving God as a Fierce Mother — a presence who tends to me with kindness, compassion, and healing. A presence who rescues the parts of me that were left behind, zipped up, or nearly devoured.
And now I wonder about you.
Is there a part of you that has been overlooked or carried along without care? A part that feels small, scared, or forgotten? A part that keeps getting swallowed by the needs of others?
Can you sit with that part? Can you allow God — as a real, loving, attentive presence — to tend to what is tender in you?
There is a little black puppy in all of us. And she deserves to be rescued, held, and fiercely loved.
