Black and grey dreamcatcher tattoo with hanging feathers on the upper back and shoulder of a person with long hair, in a black and white photograph.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Dreamcatcher tattoo on upper back

Back · Black and grey · Photo

The tattoo shows a large dreamcatcher with a central star-like web and two smaller hoops, with three feathers hanging from the lower edge. The linework is bold and dark, with shaded feathers and fine detail in the web pattern. The image is a black and white photograph taken from behind, with the tattoo placed on the upper back beside the shoulder blade.

Back Dreamcatcher Feather Hair

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Dear Tom, the willow hoops are soaking in the bath again, so the flat smells like a hedge in March. Mrs Okafor from number nine came up the stairs this morning with a shoebox and asked if I could make something for her grandson, who has woken screaming at four every night since they moved in. I told her a dreamcatcher is only string and good manners, but she said she would pay in cash and in Victoria plums, so I said yes.

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I wove the big ring first, the way Nan taught us, starting at the centre and working outwards so the web closes like a hand. Sinew for the spokes, not thread, because thread goes lazy in damp weather. Two smaller rings hang from the bottom, and three feathers: a pale grey one from the pigeon on the chimney, and two dark ones I bought off a man in Camden who swore they came from a crow that flew into a bus shelter. Nobody checks that sort of thing.

The boy was sitting on the stairs when I came to hang it, in pyjamas with rocket ships on, holding his knees. He asked whether the web catches bad dreams or only frightened ones. I said the holes are the point, that the good dreams slip straight through and the bad ones tangle. He thought about that for a long while and said it sounded like a sieve. I had to admit he had a point.

I hung it over his bed on a loop of nylon. Tomorrow I'll knock to ask whether he slept, and if he says no, I'll open the middle a little wider. You told me once that the trick to anything is knowing when to undo it. Write back soon, and tell me whether the sea is still too cold for you. Your loving sister, Ruth.