Black gothic-style lettering reading Dreamer beside a dreamcatcher with feathers and small blue beads on the inner wrist.

Dreamer lettering with dreamcatcher on wrist

Lettering · Other · Mixed · Photo

A close photograph of a tattoo on the inner wrist. The word Dreamer is written in black blackletter-style lettering across the centre, with a dreamcatcher and two dangling feathers on the left. The feathers are shaded in grey and black, while the dreamcatcher beads show a small amount of blue-teal ink.

Lettering Other Dreamcatcher Feather Bead Lettering Wrist

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Gwen had the potatoes on the boil before the watch changed, which was the only thing the skipper ever praised her for. The galley of the Margaret Lowe smelt of onions, diesel and wet oilskins, and the porthole above the sink rattled every time the boat lifted off a swell. Someone had hung a dreamcatcher from the brass hook beside it, a ring of blue beads strung with two grey feathers that turned slowly whenever the door opened.

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It had been Tomasz's, the deckhand who went ashore at Peterhead with his pay packet and never came back for his bunk. He had left it wrapped in a tea towel with a note: Keep it over the hob, it catches the bad sleep. Above the hatch he had painted one word in heavy black letters, DREAMER, and when Gwen asked him why, he said a cook needed something to aim for. She had laughed at that, then hung the catcher up anyway, because throwing it over the side felt like admitting he was gone.

On the third night of the storm the bell rang from the wheelhouse and the mate came down with news that the nets had fouled. The crew would be on deck until dawn. Gwen ladled broth into tin mugs and counted heads in the doorway. Five. Six. She kept counting until the sixth man, a boy from Lerwick, grinned through the salt on his face and said he had dreamt of a bacon roll the whole way out.

Before the light came up grey over the bow she lifted the catcher from its hook and tied it to the rail beside the door, where anyone coming in from the cold would see it first. The feathers swung and settled. Gwen turned back to the pot, and for once the boat seemed to rise and fall with a little less weight in it.