Black linework dreamcatcher with feathers and beads over pink, teal and yellow watercolour washes, shown as a design drawing.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Dreamcatcher with watercolour wash

Mixed · Flash

A detailed dreamcatcher drawn in fine black linework, with a large outer hoop, an inner geometric web, and a smaller web hanging below. Strings of beads and several feathers hang from the lower edge. Soft pink, teal and yellow watercolour washes sit behind the drawing on a cream background.

Dreamcatcher Feather Bead Web Watercolour

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The Bramleys were down by the second week of September, and Ada Penrose carried her grandmother's hoop out to the damson tree at the bottom of the orchard. It was willow, bent into a ring and bound with waxed thread, and it had lived in a drawer since the war. Ada had dyed the webbing herself: pink from elderberries, teal from a pan of old copper pennies, yellow from marigolds she had dried on the greenhouse sill.

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She hung it where the wind off the river could reach it, strung blue glass beads along the cords, and tied three jay feathers to the lower ring. Her brother Tom had slept badly since the mill closed. Each night he came down the orchard path in his socks and sat under the tree, saying he dreamed of the looms again, the clatter of them, and whether his hands would ever be needed. Ada told him the web would sort them. Every dream that came in the dark would catch on a thread, and in the morning she would pick out the ones worth keeping and let the rest blow down the river.

The first night, the web held something that was not theirs. A fox came along the orchard wall with a dream snagged in its whiskers, a dream of a warm earth bank and a litter of kits, and it stood beneath the damson shaking its head until the threads gave. Ada went down in her coat and found the dream caught in the lower hoop. She unpicked it strand by strand, and the fox took it back between its teeth and trotted off over the wall.

Tom slept through that night for the first time since spring. In the morning the lower hoop held only a single damson stone and one jay feather, the beads still in their places, and the orchard gate stood open to the river.