They are the only ones that who know the stories of my mind. I am the only one who cherishes them. Three dream catchers with worn, willow hoops and woven nets. Three story keeper hanging from the small corner window. Three who symbolize sweet visions that will remain in my mind forever. From the covers, I can see them anxiously awaiting my slumber.
Their memories are never-ending. They expose years of jumbled thoughts. They remember all, the happy and sad. This is how they work.
As I begin to doze, my mind begins to sparkle with the adventures of my imagination. The dream catchers grasp these sparks, and hold them within the depths of their mangled nets. Catch, catch, catch, they work as I sleep. They know the truth.
When my memory is too worn or tired to remember. When I am forgetful and struggle to retrieve those old thoughts. I look to my catchers. Three catchers that reveal the truths and excitement of my racing mind. Three who I can depend on, who know my true thoughts.