The most scrutinised dream in the history of psychoanalysis has wolves in it. Freud's patient Sergei Pankejeff, the Wolf Man of the 1918 case history, dreamed as a small child that his bedroom window opened by itself onto a walnut tree full of white wolves, six or seven of them, motionless, staring at him; he woke in terror of being eaten. Freud built the case's whole reconstruction on that dream, and the analytic literature has argued about it ever since, Pankejeff himself, interviewed in old age, remaining unconvinced. The dream is cited here as history, not as a warrant for any reading of wolves.
The wolf came to that bedroom window already loaded. The fairy tales had made it the devourer at the door, in Red Riding Hood and the Seven Little Kids; the werewolf tradition made it what a person becomes when the human slips; Norse myth set Fenrir to swallow Odin at the world's end, while Rome, characteristically, kept a she wolf as foster mother of its founders. Threat and wildness on one side, fierce nurture on the other.
The interpretive traditions sort dream wolves along that split. The Jungian line reads the wolf toward the instinctual shadow, what is hungry and unhoused in the dreamer, threatening chiefly when starved or denied; folk dictionaries read wolves toward enemies and hard seasons. The dream's own detail, pack or lone wolf, attack or watchfulness, decides which register interpreters reach for.