Dream catcher. An intricate piece woven to contain the horrors of the mind, all while letting the beauties and fantasies trickle back down. Fears take hold like roots to fresh soil. It starts slow and soft, finding a good supply, a bleeding heart, unbridled anger, or deep pain to feed on.  Then, the roots grow thicker and stronger until there’s no way to be set free. My mind is filled with the worst things I could ever imagine. Literally. Sometimes, I’d see my family burning in the hot flames of my anger. Their lungs filled with hot ash caused by my own ambition. Other times, I am drowning over and over and over again. Sometimes in water, sometimes in thoughts, and sometimes in tar. The tar that stuck to my skin was made of words that stuck in my mind. But as long as I have my dream catcher, my fears are trapped in the leather and strangled in the webbing. 

I wonder what if it broke? Would the world be infested with my darkest fears? A personal nightmare poisoning my life and all the people I love. A handcrafted horror movie. The worst part of it all? None of it would have existed if I didn’t imagine it first. I would have to writhe in the poison I created in my own mind. Every horror to cross my eyes would be my fault. My creation. I question whether storing it was the right choice. What if one day, it all comes rolling out like Pandora’s Box? 

No. That’s irrational. The dream catcher still hangs untouched above my reach. For now.