Dreamcatcher: A Collection of Dreams
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Dreamcatcher: A Collection of Dreams

Tonight let's hang a dreamcatcher over our beds and catch our dreams; dreams of another life, dreams of love, dreams of whatever we have ever wished of because dreams are stillborn children of our brain that never get to see the sunlight. So let us dream and let us see.

Some amazing writers on our Discord submitted these poems on this topic:

Tonight, I Will Sleep Prepared by Saf (penned_bysaf)

Tonight, I will sleep prepared,
By setting a dreamcatcher above my bed,
So, no dream can escape.
I want to touch and feel,
Dreams which made me kneel,
Dreams where I saw the world in peace;
People helping the ones in need,
Admiration even with imperfections.
These are some dreams,
That I hide under my sheets.
I hope to catch them every night,
To feel happy even in the day.

Hold that Dreamcatcher Close by SAMVEDA

I would always wake up to the sound of metal.
A heavy clang and a plate of food.
Weeks, months all counted and tallied,
Until all the walls were filled with black.
The old lady next to my cell was always mute,
Some days I'd wonder if she spoke at all, 
But her humming would always put me to sleep.
My sleep worsened day after day, I'd tell her,
She'd give me her usual kind smile, look at me,
And I'd feel her say, it would get better.
Her days were numbered, I could tell,
As her wings lost their glow by the minute.
She would breathe her last when 
Our captor would pluck the final feather.
When she neared her end of days,
I'd notice more human food on my plate
In return, she'd soak up the light off my wings.
The night before, she stopped humming,
"I'll have bad dreams", I told her.
She crawled towards her mattress,
Pulled out a sewn ring of strings and feathers.
"I saved some of my feathers for you,
This is for all the bad dreams", she said.
My captor cleaned her cell after a few days,
He'd try and make conversation, like always,
But I would pretend not to notice him.
"Is that a dreamcatcher?" He asked one day
A blank stare was all he got after minutes.
He kneeled down next to me, held the metal
"You're not living in a bad dream dear
This is to protect you, the world is not ready"
My quiet growls would make him shift.
"You might get good dreams with those feathers,
But if you go out to chase them,
They will pursue you, hunt you down."
He knew how he sounded, guilty.
He knew I'd be killed either way.
With a loud clang, he closed the cell,
"You're a monster too" I'd spit out.
My wings burned with hatred and rage,
"I am a monster" he said.
"But you'll live the longest with me, every
Feather you have, will give you life. 
Hold that dreamcatcher close, dear one,
I've heard bad dreams make feathers shed."

Clearing my Dreams Cache with a Dreamcatcher by Myst

I went to the bazaar, and got a dreamcatcher that the vendor guaranteed would only ensnare good dreams with bizarre occurrences. A dream of me gracefully falling through the sky, only to land on the ground and peacefully fall asleep, waking up in another dreamland. One in which it’s raining syrup-covered pancakes, and I’m able to eat each pancake in a single gulp without leaving any messy trace. Another in which I’m on stage at night with Eminem, my shower rapping having paid dividends, the crowd not giving in to any sleepiness.
I only want dreams like this, as waking up from the fantastical is more manageable than waking up from something based in the actual. When an outlandish dream in which you’re floating on air dissipates, you’re not full of woe or hoping that life becomes phantasmagorical to mimic that euphoric flow. It was a beautiful brainchild of your reticular formation, destined to be stillborn; never brought to realization. When a good dream that’s not far-fetched is drawn in your sleeping mind’s etch-a-sketch, you feel distressed when it’s left; full of unrest. I want to stop dreaming of our past; when we shared an energy that flowed in a circuit, crossing our locked eyes and interlocked finger digits. 
I hate waking up with a love hangover, reminded that us building a home is now a castle in the air that hangs over me like a cloud of despair. 

When I Dream I’m a Silent Narrator by Heather Marzano

When I dream I’m a silent narrator,
A witness in a trance.
Catching dreams from others,
People I don’t know,
In situations I’ve never experienced,
In scenes I have never seen
And I never make an entrance.
A place, I wish to never arrive
Because it’s unstable and unknown.
The dream has nothing to do with me,
It’s rare when I have a dream that is my own.

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