Monday, 26 September 2016
When I saw the above image online, it immediately suggested to me the concept of an otherworld dream-catcher, a silent preternatural being standing unseen beside us as we sleep, ready to capture the dreams that we shall dream that night. So that is what I wrote.
The dream-catcher stands unseen, still, beside our beds,
Powdered skin as pale as bleached bone upon a beach,
A tippet of swan feathers around his shoulders,
A dense ruff of white owl plumes encircling his neck.
His long fingers snatch at the dreams that flutter by,
Like ghostly moths in the miasma of midnight.
Then he blows them softly inside our sleeping minds,
Keeping watch over them, and us, through the dark hours.
And when dawn comes, when the bright sun wakes in splendour,
He is gone, leaving no dream nor any trace here,
Gone away to ensnare new dreams for new sleepers,
Until our dream lives are over, our dream lives done.