Moonlight beamed through my open window, first through the bug screen, then through the dreamcatcher. A midsummer’s wind tilted the charm first to the left, then back to the right and left again. Mom made it at some camp decades ago when she was in her childhood and later wanted me to have it.

I couldn’t give it up. Not after, well, you know.

I tried not to look at it. It gave me the creeps. Mom said nightmares were too big to pass through and remained trapped until morning where they would die in the sunrise. Was that true? Dreamcatchers were supposed to degrade, but that camp gave the kids lasting materials. So old, and I wondered how many nightmares remained soaked in the net.

I tried not to look at it, instead rolling to one side and pulling blankets over my head. It was stifling beneath, but I couldn’t keep staring into that well of nightmares. So long it soaked. No magic, only a child’s toy made years ago at camp.

I saw its shadow even from beneath the blankets. I peered over, and the charm tilted left, then right, then left again.


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