“How does this actually work?”

“The dreamcatcher is supposed to trap any bad dreams, while letting the good ones flow through. The good dreams travel through those feathers and into whoever is asleep.”

You always knew that I was a dreamer. And you always knew that my nightmares came in the way. My nightmares
that were mostly about losing you. And I would get paranoid. But you would always turn to my side, in the middle of the night silencing all the deleterious thoughts by a simple, “Shh, I’m here babygirl,” and that’s how I would get sleep on those nights.

But sometimes nightmares are real. Now I try to reach for you on the bed, and all that greet me are covers. Covers unkempt by my constant clawing. No human.

You were the one who made me the dreamcatcher to keep my nightmares at bay. But you were the one who turned them into reality. As your absence from my life drowns me, all that’s keeping me afloat are my dreams. The real ones.

Perhaps the dreamcatcher did play its part. It did filter out my nightmare and fill my mind with the more substantial dreams. Yes, now that I think about it, the dreamcatcher actually works. You are now out of my life and now I am desperately seeking and clawing towards my ambitions.

And I learnt – If I said behind behaving like a dreamcatcher, I would lose all the opportunities. And my life would be a nightmare.

Now when I gaze around my room, the dreamcatcher looks beautiful. Its net woven beautifully, strong and tight. And at the bottom were a bunch of bird feathers dipped in many colours of paint. They represent my dreams. Nothing else.

You don’t catch dreams
You lock slivers of wind in your hair.

You carry them with you,
The lucid part of a memory.

Leave the stars in the sky,
Leave luck to empty space.

You use wishes and save pennies,
carry them in a jar marked ‘Yesterday’.



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