Dreaming New Dreams: The Liminal Pause of Late Winter
February reflections on holding warmth, dreaming for the collective, and resting well with support from the plants
There is a particular kind of longing that marks late winter. The light lingers a few minutes more each evening. Seed catalogs and gardening books begin to take residence on the kitchen counter. For those of us who love plants and the promise of spring, February is often when anticipation turns into restlessness. Goals and projects and dreams about what we’ll grow, make, and tend have been percolating all winter long and are taking on a new sense of urgency and excitement.
Despite this, there is still a deep quiet in the ground beneath our feet. The show is happening behind the curtain. Energy is being channeled within to properly resource the without. What we see of nature in late winter– the bare trees, the resinous cottonwood buds- are tiny promises of potentiality. It’s the medicine inside that counts. It is the nature of winter that when activity ceases out there, we are beckoned to come inside and tend to the garden within.
How’s your inner garden this time of year? This moment of “almost, but not yet” is a liminal one, ripe with potential and requiring a challenging amount of patience. The activation comes first from the tending, not yet in the doing.
Thankfully, we live in a very beneficent reality of Love that ensures the needs of the body match perfectly with the gifts of the season. We are one with nature, after all. We may look out and see a pace of the modern world that feels mismatched with our biological urges, and yet, our bodies know exactly what they need in this time: stillness, rest, and warmth. Winter’s gifts provide the antidote to our incongruous ways of living, provided we allow the body to rest in their warmth.
For me, February is a month for holding warmth. Not just in the sense of keeping the body warm (which is so important, and warrants another post entirely!), but I like to think of warmth as a measure of quality of care. An offering of strength for the journey when our energy reserves remain low. When we are warm with ourselves, we prioritize self-nourishment and well-resourced nervous systems. When we are warm with each other, we are ensuring Love’s abundant and mysterious way will provide for every need. The inner garden needs warmth in order to function with coherence!
Late winter gently asks for simple, nourishing (warm!) meals, supportive routines, and fewer demands on the nervous system. Less novelty, more repetition – for it builds a sense of safety in the body. Less indulgence, more moderation – for it is the key to life.
What might be mistaken on the outside as a lack of motivation on the inside is actually the body doing exactly what it needs to do: conserving energy, restoring itself quietly, and preparing for what’s to come.
The liminal quality of late winter is a threshold, an in-between space where we listen more than act, where we stay with what’s forming rather than rushing it into shape. Thresholds can be uncomfortable if we remain unwilling to look inward. It requires a certain fortitude and courage to face ourselves and tend our inner gardens. It is only from this soil, the kind that is nurtured within, that we are equipped with the vision and fortitude to dream new dreams and build new ways of being into existence.
Dreaming with Pisces Season in the Age of Aquarius
At the time of writing, it is nearly Pisces season (Feb. 18- Mar. 20), a particular kind of threshold energy all its own. As the final sign of the zodiac that precedes the astrological new year, it invites dreaming before doing and imagining before executing. It is the astrological echo of late winter’s “almost but not yet,” a call to let go of the need to force an outcome and instead settle into the in-between space, allowing what’s emerging to remain fluid until it's ripe for fruition.
Personally, I love this threshold and the dreamlike quality of Pisces season, as it offers permission to practice being the professional daydreamer that I am. But again, moderation here – even something as innocent as dreaming can tip into the realm of self-indulgence if left unchecked. Pisces, after all, is a collective sign. It is less concerned with individual ambition and more with the invisible threads that connect us.
At the same time, we are standing at the edge of a monumental collective shift. Pluto recently moved out of Capricorn, where it had been stationed since 2008, and into Aquarius, where it will remain until 2044. Symbolically, this marks a slow turning away from rigid hierarchies and failing institutions, and reorients us toward issues of shared responsibility and community care when old systems no longer hold. (Or, when they’re exposed for never caring for us in the first place…oops!)
Pluto moves slowly, reshaping the ground beneath us over decades. Its transition invites us to dream new dreams, ones that move beyond the individual and into ways of living that are more relational, humane, and rooted in stewardship. Pluto’s shift into Aquarius calls for new ways of tending one another, redistributing power, and building resilience at the collective level.
The dreams surfacing now are not only personal but collective – they ask us to reimagine how we belong to one another. As I write this in late winter of 2026, it couldn’t be more obvious that humanity stands at a threshold that will shape a new kind of world. Where we go from here is entirely up to us and the capacity of our nervous system to hold it all.
When we are living inside a threshold this vast, staying resourced matters. The nervous system needs support to stay soft and open to listening, and the body needs rest deep enough to let the psyche do its work. Dreaming, in this sense, is one of the ways we metabolize change. Certain herbs have long been used to support this process, helping to calm the nervous system, deepen rest, and make space for the subtle information that arrives through dreams. What a gift!
Plant Allies for Dreamwork and Deep Rest
In late winter, the plants that support dreaming are not those that push us into altered states, but are rather ones that help the body feel safe enough to rest deeply. The dreamwork here is subtle and arrives by way of a soft nervous system and restorative sleep. The mind must be given the space to loosen its grip! The following plant allies have long been used to support this kind of quiet inner work.
Chamomile: One of the most underestimated yet accessible allies for this season, chamomile gently calms the nervous system, eases digestive tension, and supports restorative sleep. Its medicine is especially useful when restlessness lives in the body, ie, tight bellies, clenched jaws, or the low-grade anxiety that can make falling and staying asleep so difficult.
Lemon balm: Traditionally used to lift the spirits and soothe the heart, lemon balm is helpful when worry or mental chatter keeps you awake. It supports emotional processing without sedation, making it a wonderful ally for those whose dreams feel vivid or emotionally charged.
Rose offers support for dreaming through the heart. Its medicine is subtle but profound, helping soften grief, sadness, and unspoken emotion that may surface more easily in the dream state. Rose creates a sense of emotional safety, allowing dreams to unfold gently and tenderly.
Mugwort has a long history as a dream herb, though it should be approached with respect and moderation. In small amounts, it can support dream recall and liminal awareness, particularly for those already attuned to their inner state. Mugwort is best used sparingly and intentionally.
In late winter, working with dream-supportive herbs can be as simple as a warm cup of tea before bed, a few quiet moments of intention-setting, or placing the plant nearby as a companion to the dreaming already underway. The aim is to support the conditions in which the psyche can rest, integrate, and prepare slowly for what comes next.
A Gentle Dream & Deep Rest Tea
This blend is designed to soften the edges of the nervous system, support emotional processing, and invite rest deep enough for dreaming.
Ingredients (by parts)
2 parts chamomile
1 part lemon balm
½ part rose petals
Optional: ¼ part mugwort
How to Prepare
Use 1-2 teaspoons of the blend per cup of hot water
Steep 10-15 minutes, covered
Drink in the evening, ideally 30-60 minutes before bed
How to Work With It
Drink slowly
Notice where your body softens
Let the mind wander without directing it
If dreams come, receive them gently
If they don’t, trust that rest itself is the work
You might keep a notebook nearby to jot down impressions in the morning if something lingers.
These are no small times. May these plants offer companionship across the threshold of big, collective change currently underway. May this moment find you tending your own inner garden and dreaming new dreams of collective care. We are midwifing a new world into being as we speak, and in this liminal place, it is safe to let ourselves be held and nurtured by the plants who will carry us there.
Peace for the journey,
Brianna
Image Credit: magdalenavalenti