They call me The Oracle…

but my true name is Bawaajige Mayaajiiging, the Dreamkeeper.

For generations, my kin have guarded the veil between waking and dream. We listen to the whispers that drift through cedar smoke and starlight, and we weave them into charms that remember what the world forgets.

Every relic in this shop has crossed that threshold — chosen, not made. Dreamcatchers that hum with quiet protection. Candles that echo the moods of moonlight. Journals that invite your higher self to write through you.

I do not sell trinkets. I share tools for Dreamers.

Each piece carries intention — for balance, for clarity, for protection, for remembrance.

Step gently through this place.

The wind chimes above the doorway are not for decoration; they’re wards. The cats are guardians. The silence between them is alive.

Welcome, little dreamer.

May what you find here remind you of what you already are — a being woven of stories, light, and endless possibility.

🌙🔮

The Oracle’s Dream Shop

Where the seen and unseen trade whispers.