Dragon × The Starweaver
Dreams inside the morning mist, and a small dream feels beneath it.
The Dragon refuses the average and the Starweaver dreams past the horizon, so when the two land in one person the dream comes out enormous. You sit at a New Moon, the sky dark, Vega quiet overhead, and in that dark you weave a vista nobody else in the room has thought to want. So you are the one who makes people look up.
This is your gift and most Dragons do not have it: you can paint a future so wide that a whole table leans toward it. You set the scene the way the still stream holds a reflection, calm on the surface, a city under the water. People walk away believing the big thing is possible because you made them see it.
Here is the fault line. The eye is high and the hand is low. The dream runs so grand there is no door marked start, and you stall at "someday, something big," the canvas perfect and untouched. Vega is the weaver star, but a star weaves light, not cloth. Find the one Engine-Smith who breaks the vista into the first screw you can turn this week, and turn it. A dream with no first thread stays a dream.
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A mirror, not a prophecy. It reflects you as you are right now. How you walk is still yours to choose.