Scripture contains a full tree dream with its interpretation attached. In the book of Daniel, Nebuchadnezzar dreams of a tree at the centre of the earth, its top reaching heaven, feeding and sheltering every creature, and then a watcher descends ordering it cut down, the stump banded in iron and bronze until seven times pass over it. Daniel reads the tree as the king himself, greatness felled for pride and preserved at the root for restoration, and the dream unfolds exactly so. The passage fixed, inside the tradition, the equivalence the dream books still use: the tree as the person, its height as their standing, its fate as theirs.
The world tree stands behind the royal one: Yggdrasil joining the nine worlds, the bodhi tree under which the Buddha woke, the trees of Eden, the axis mundi that roots in the deep and crowns in heaven. Genealogy borrowed the image the other way, the family tree making kinship a thing with roots and branches.
Jung gave the tree a late scholarly monument, an essay on the philosophical tree tracing it through alchemy as the image of the psyche's slow, rooted growth, and his tradition reads dream trees toward the self, their condition toward the dreamer's own, bare, fruiting, felled or green again. The dictionaries compress this to growth and rootedness. Daniel's watcher, notably, left the stump alive; the traditions have read hope into dream trees ever since.