Black and grey dreamcatcher tattoo with shaded feathers and flowers across a person's upper back, between the shoulder blades.

Dreamcatcher with flowers on a back

Realism · Back · Black and grey · Photo

A large dreamcatcher sits on the upper back, with a circular hoop, a finely woven web and beaded strands ending in shaded feathers. Clusters of shaded flowers and dotted swirls curl around the right side of the hoop, and a small flower sits near the left shoulder. The tattoo uses soft black and grey shading and fine linework, with the design centred on the back and the striped top visible at the left edge.

Realism Botanical Back Dreamcatcher Feather Flower Bead Swirl Web

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Sit on the flour sack, love, and keep your hands off that tray until it's cooled. I'll tell you how the ring came to hang over the proving drawer, because you've been eyeing it since Monday. Your mother's mother made the first one. She bent willow from the canal bank into a hoop, then wound waxed thread across it until it looked like a spider had got drunk on it.

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She sold bread on Brindle Lane for forty years, and she never once slept past the hour the milk cart rattled by. The trouble was the worries that came up the stairs with her at night. Mr Okafor's sister in hospital. A crack in the stone under the deck oven. The rent going up a shilling a week. She'd lie awake listing them, and by morning they were sitting in the dough. So she hung the ring above her bed and threaded seven jet beads along its cords, with a grey feather tied under each one from the pigeons that roosted on the chimney stack.

The story goes that a worry caught in the web stays there while you sleep. The beads hold it down and the feathers keep it from blowing back at you. Come morning you shake the hoop out over the yard and it's gone. She'd say it with a flour laugh, but she never once took the ring down.

The last morning she was in the bakery, she had it in her lap, reknotting a frayed cord. The sun came up over the canal and threw the hoop's shadow across the flour bin, a perfect round with a bright hole at its centre. 'There,' she said. 'Nothing in the middle. That's what you're aiming for.' Then she took the first loaf out of the oven and didn't say another word.