Black line drawing of a dreamcatcher with a flower of life centre, three hanging catchers, feathers and stars, shown as a tattoo design without a body placement.

Dreamcatcher line drawing design

Fine line · Black and grey · Flash

A black line drawing of a dreamcatcher with a beaded outer ring enclosing a flower of life pattern. Two smaller circular dreamcatchers hang below, each with feathers and beads, and a small central medallion hangs between them. Fine outlines, small stars and wispy feathers fill the open background on a plain white ground.

Fine line Geometric Dreamcatcher Feather Bead Flower of life Mandala Star Circle

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The lorry from Kettering had nothing in its cab but a thermos, a crate of wooden spoons and a clipboard with the wrong date on it, so when I leaned in at the barrier I expected to be bored. Instead there were three hoops hanging from the mirror, each one a tight ring of grey wire strung with a web of thread and small dark beads, and a few feathers trembling every time the trailer bumped over the cattle grid at Halse Bridge.

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"My mother made them," the driver said before I could ask. He was younger than his paperwork. "She says a web catches the things you don't want to carry across. Bad sleep, bad news. Anything with teeth." I asked whether the hoops were on his manifest. He looked at me as though I had asked whether the road was on the map. Declared goods: spoons, two hundred. Ornamental, nil value, I typed, and then I stopped with my finger over the key.

My father kept one hoop above his bed in the flat above the chemist's, a single ring with a blue feather that he swore had come from a bird that had flown through a window. He never explained it and I never asked, and after he died I found it in a biscuit tin with his tax papers. I had kept it on my own sill for six years without once thinking about whether it did anything.

I pressed the key. Nil value, one hoop, for sleeping. The driver raised two fingers from the wheel and the barrier lifted. As the lorry pulled away, a grey feather came loose from the mirror and drifted down through the cab light onto my desk, where it lay across the stamp like a bookmark I had not asked for, and I left it there.