Gold metallic dreamcatcher tattoo with a mandala centre and three feathers on the inner forearm, shown in a bright tiled room.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Gold dreamcatcher with feathers on a forearm

Geometric · Forearm · Colour · Photo

A metallic gold dreamcatcher sits across the inner forearm, with a circular mandala centre ringed by zigzag and dotted borders. Three feathers hang from the lower edge, filled with fine dotted and hatched detail. The gold ink stands out against warm, tanned skin, and the design is centred on a pale tiled floor.

Geometric Forearm Dreamcatcher Feather Mandala

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The corridor lights are down to their amber setting, and you are on your third pass of bed four's drip when Mrs Adeyemi says, without opening her eyes, that the feathers are still there. You tell her they are. Her grandson hung the dreamcatcher above the headboard before he left, a brass mandala the size of a side plate, ringed with zigzags and dotted borders, three feathers trailing from its base like the tails of small kites. In the low light the metal looks almost like gold leaf.

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She tells you the middle is where the good dreams come in, through the star at the centre, and that the web catches them and holds them until morning. The bad ones, she says, slide down the outer ring and out along the feathers, where they can't find their way back. You ask if that's how it works on nights too. She laughs, which sets off a cough, and you sit with her until it passes, counting her breaths against the second hand of the clock above the nurses' station.

At ten past four the alarm goes off in bay two and you are gone for twenty minutes, mopping up a spilt jug of water and reassuring a man who can't remember which bed is his. When you come back, bed four is quiet. Mrs Adeyemi is asleep with one hand open on the blanket. Above her the dreamcatcher has swung round on its hook, feathers pointing towards the window, and a thin grey light from the car park is catching the dots along each quill.

You don't turn it back. Half an hour later the sky over the roofs goes the colour of weak tea, and you find yourself thinking the feathers look as if they are waiting for something to come in from outside. You write on the chart, bed four, settled, and leave the dreamcatcher exactly where it is.