Pencil sketch of a dreamcatcher with two shaded feathers and small birds, drawn on a spiral sketchbook page, suitable as a tattoo design.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Dreamcatcher and feathers pencil sketch

Realism · Black and grey · Flash

A pencil drawing of a dreamcatcher with a woven circular web and beaded hanging lines, with two feathers hanging beneath and a few small birds in flight to the right. The linework is soft and the feathers are shaded with graded greys to show their texture. The sketch sits on a spiral sketchbook page on a wooden table, with pencils visible at the top of the frame.

Realism Dreamcatcher Feather Bird Sketch Pencil drawing

Find an artist for this

Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The hall smelled of floor polish, and the sausage rolls had gone soft under their cling film when Dorothy Quill took the hoop from her carrier bag and set it down between the name badges and the raffle tickets. Nobody had seen her since the Lower Sixth. The hoop was willow bent into a ring, with a web of thread strung across it, and from its bottom edge hung two long grey feathers and a string of small glass beads.

Keep reading

"My nan said you hang one over the bed," she said, "so the bad dreams get caught in the web and burn off when the sun comes up." Nobody laughed. Gary Ostle, who had once set fire to the chemistry lab, lifted one feather and turned it so the light from the high windows ran along its barbs. "Where'd you get it?" "Off a woman on the harbour wall, the summer after we left. She said the birds follow whoever keeps one."

Outside, a flock of starlings rose from the car park and wheeled over the playing fields, and for a moment the whole hall went quiet to watch them. Dorothy counted them under her breath the way she used to count the register. Eleven. Then she said, "There were twelve of us in the back row. There is always one who doesn't come."

Gary pinned the hoop to the wall above the tea urn with a drawing pin from the box marked Noticeboard. By the time the caretaker came to lock up, the starlings had gone, but the feathers still stirred in the draught from the door. Someone had put the name badges face down on the table, and the one with the empty space beside it was still waiting for a name.