Father Time has many children.
I am the lowest, the most hated, and least useful of all his children.
He favors Fate and Harmony out of all of us, but even Nightmare has value in the eyes of Father Time. Serendipity and Nostalgia are somewhere in the mix, but even then, I am still the runt of them all.
See my brother, Fate, weaves the destinies of all humans within the span of time our Father has set within the universe. Many evoke his name when great success falls into their laps but also when disaster strikes against them. They prefer to pin the blame and honor upon his name rather than acknowledge that perhaps their own hands spun the outcomes of their lives.
Then, there is my sister Harmony. She is the balancing of chaos and order across millennia. Without her there would be unending anarchy and devastation, but with her the rigidity of legalism isn’t a chokehold binding the hands of all within flawed systems. She orchestrates a symphony that blends it all into a poised stability.
Those two are necessary tools within all time. At least, I like to call them tools to make myself feel better.
Can’t forget about my sisters, Serendipity and Nostalgia. They are the most beloved of my siblings by the humans as they bring about a unique whimsy to all they interact with. Serendipity has a knack of creating fortunate accidents and happy coincidences in just the right timing. Nostalgia reminds the humans of where they have been in pockets of joyful and melancholic times. To me they are quirky and charming, but their inconsistency, unpredictability, and selectivity just annoy me.
And my twin brother, Nightmare, he is the worst of the bunch. He preys on the fear he creates in manipulated and cruel visions of the night. He could use his dream weaving ability for good, but instead the villain gets off on the quaking of humans we are meant to help and claiming it gives ego-driven humans a sense of caution with the anxiety he produces within them.
Finally, there’s me. Dreamcatcher. The humans curse my name. They have imaginations that run rampant with fantastical aspirations and idealized situations, so I have to snatch those visions away from them in their first moments of consciousness otherwise they would believe themselves capable of more than truly possible. They know they dreamt something incredible, but the details evade them no matter how much they try to claw them back from me. Since this happens at all hours of the night and day, I’m the busiest of my siblings. Talk about hard work and no appreciation for it.
If anyone would understand, it's Mother Nature. She’s not my mother, despite her name. Technically she’s my aunt and has children of her own that aren’t so bad.
Well, except for Celestia. Humans rely too much on her influence in astrology that often their dreams are too wrapped up in her dictation of their future because of their daily horoscope or star sign. It doesn’t matter how many of those dreams I catch, the humans can’t seem to let go of her divination.
The rest of them, Flora, Fauna, Terra, Aqua, and Fire are fine. We keep separate for the most part, which suits me well.
But I do enjoy spending time with Mother Nature. She is always busy as her work never seems to end because of the nature of humankind. She has always seemed like a kindred spirit to me in that sense.
While there happens to be a lull in the dreams of humans, I am heading to visit her now.
“Mother Nature, hello!” I yell out as I see her tilling the garden of her slice of heaven.
She emanates a soft glow as she peers at me beneath a hand on her forehead, squinting to better see me as I approach.
“Dreamcatcher, I wasn’t expecting you today. How can I help you?” she asks with her melodic voice that evokes peace within me.
“I could use your advice, if you could spare a moment of your time.” I approach her as she wipes her dirt covered hands upon her gardening apron.
“Only your father can spare time, but for you I am happy to help.” Her smile grows wide as she appraises me. “Do you mind if I continue to work while we speak?”
“Not at all, anything I can do to help you?”
“Unless you have a green thumb I don’t know about, perhaps you observe for now.” She says this gently and not meant to offend me, as she kneels down into the dirt. She grabs a small handheld shovel and begins to dig in the sifted dirt in front of her.
I sit down, cross legged beside her. “I would be honored to observe the works of your hands. I’ve long appreciated the beautiful things you have cultivated.”
A soft smile is planted on Mother Nature’s face at the compliment but continues her work in silence. She never forces, simply allows space for me when I am ready.
“Father hasn’t had the time to spare for me to share my feelings. See, I have been struggling with my role among the humans.” I wring my hands as I watch her dig holes in equal distance from each other. No sweat beads her brow, but I notice her muscles contract with each fluid movement.
Taking a deep breath and releasing it before I continue, “It feels wrong to take their dreams from them. But I know that this is a necessary task, I just question if it's the right one.”
“Tell me why you believe it is wrong.” Mother Nature demands softly without looking up from her labor.
“I feel like a thief. Taking what isn’t mine but what they have created with their amazing imaginations.” I reach a hand down into the dirt and begin to swirl a finger through the soil. The particles grazing against my skin and grounding my heart from bursting from my chest.
”Some of the dreams I catch are so beautiful and vivid and have good feelings within them. I hate when I take those. But the ones that are bad that I take, I feel like I am giving them a gift of depriving them from what haunts them, what tortures them, what repeats within their souls.”
Mother Nature murmurs as she pulls out a small bag from the pocket of her apron. She spills the seeds within it to her open palm before placing them within the holes she has created.
“I think it's wrong to take the good ones. I see no point in it.” I add.
“What point could there be in taking both the good and the bad from the humans?” she asks as she covers the seeds she planted with the dirt she had previously dug. Packing them tight with a firm palm to the ground above them.
“Father says it's to remove their inevitable hubris, but I can’t seem to find any other reason beyond that.” I sigh as I clench a fistful of soil into my palm causing a slight sting of the brittle dirt against my skin.
“It feels like by taking the good I deprive them from hope and inspiration.”
Mother Nature completes burying the seeds in the soil before her and pierces a narrowed gaze on mine.
“Follow me, Dreamcatcher. We might find the answer you seek.”
We both stand and I follow her a few steps away to a particularly thorny and weed infested patch of her garden. Finding a place to sit, we both perch around the area. She begins to pull some of the weeds, most just leafy sprouts but some with white and yellow flowers. She tosses them to the side before pulling out pruning shears to nip the thorns before yanking them out from the ground too.
In the silence, I wait and watch her ministrations.
“Give me your hand, child.”
I raise an open palm to her and hold it in the air. She lifts out the pouch she previously had and spills tiny seeds into my waiting hand.
“Place them into the dirt as you saw me do before.”
She sits back on her heels as I mimic the actions I had seen her complete at the start of our conversation.
While I work, her eyes track my movements. “Growth happens in many forms. Some are beautiful, some are plain, and some are simply hideous. All of these types can be useful, harmful, or neither.”
“Dreams are the same from what I gather. There are some dreams that are like the flowers that grow in these weeds. They are pretty but serve little nutritional or functional use.” She grabs some of the weeds she has tossed to the side and lays it out in front of her.
“There are other dreams that are like the thorns, they choke out the pretty and useful things, leaving only pain behind.” Mother Nature pulls some of the thorns and places them to the right of the weeds.
I finish planting the seeds and pat the earth down firmly over them.
“But there are also dreams that have purpose. These are the dreams that should take root and be given space to grow and flourish.”
Mother Nature waves a glowing hand over the seeds I buried and small sprouts burst forth from the ground and slowly climb into the air, coiled leaves falling open. She pulls her hand away as a fully matured herb stands tall before us.
“These dreams might not be as beautiful as the flowered one, nor as painful as the thorns, but can be useful in creating amazing things or growing a character much needed.” She reaches forward and plucks a fragrant leaf from a stem and hands it to me. I grab hold of the leaf and bring it up to my eyes.
“The question that should be considered isn’t if it's wrong to take these dreams away from the humans, it should be which dreams they should keep and which should be caught that most helps the human in mind.”
Looking past the leaf to wise Mother Nature, I smile.
She pats my hand before standing up and moving towards her vineyard, leaving me to consider the words she spoke.
Perhaps by taking some dreams, I am leaving room for better ones to take root and grow.
