Lights in the Hogan

In 2015, my wife Mekel, Dexter the good boy—may the gods grant him peace and may he find rest!—and I went on a two-week road trip through the desert around the Four Corners area.
My wife was able to find a Hogan we could stay in on the Navajo Reservation in Monument Valley. After spending the day exploring, we went back, made a fire in the oil-drum heater, lit some candles, and got ready for bed.
The Hogan was from the early 1900s, so it was made entirely of clay, straw, and logs. The only light source was candles. In the center of the Hogan was a stove made out of an old oil drum with a chimney going through the roof. But when the door was shut, it put off zero light.
We finished dinner, put out the candles, and went to sleep.
I'm unsure what time it was, but I was woken up by the sound of Dexter softly whimpering. Without opening my eyes, I gave him some scratches and said, “It’s okay, buddy.”
He kept softly whimpering. When I opened my eyes to tell him it was okay, the words caught in my throat.
The room was full of moving lights on the walls, like one of those old nightlights that spin when you light the candle in the middle and project pictures onto the walls. (I’m unsure what they’re actually called.) The lights were all different shapes, projected onto the walls, but none of them made any sense to my tired brain.
It didn’t feel menacing or scary. If anything, it felt calming. Granted, I was still startled, so I had Dexter hop into bed with me, and we cuddled until we both passed out.
We woke up again later in the night, and there were no lights.
We woke up in the morning, had our coffee, and were on our way. I didn’t tell Mekel what happened until a couple of days later because I was still trying to process it—and debunk it.
But, like I said, the oil-drum heater put off zero light, and the only light source had been the candles. I added a photo of the Hogan to show what im taking about and of Dexter because he's a good boy and I miss him