Green Sprout (Wood) × The Starweaver
They take the dream they saw in their own private cosmos and turn it into seedlings for a garden everyone can grow in.
The Starweaver dreams at the horizon, three years out, where the thing does not exist yet. Wood takes that private cosmos and turns it into seedlings, the kind a whole garden can grow from. So you are the only Starweaver on the chart whose dream is not really for yourself. It sprouts, and the harvest belongs to whoever shows up to tend it. The vision floats far off, and your hands are already pressing seeds into other people's soil.
Most dreamers guard the idea and grow it alone. You give it away. You can take one far-off notion and grow a future with warmth in it from nothing, then actually pull people in to plant beside you, so the dream stops being yours and becomes a field. That is your rarest move. Vega is the weaver star, threading light no one has measured. You read the dark sky and quietly sow what it would take to fill it, row by row, for hands that are not yet here.
Here is where the green overgrows. You spread too wide and pack the dream too full, until the landing keeps slipping to next week and the next, every season busier than the last. The New Moon hangs invisible at the start of the cycle, all potential, nothing showing yet. You read the whole dark and try to seed all of it at once. Some seasons the garden you keep widening is the one you were supposed to plant small and finish.
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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.