She had hung a dream catcher in front of her window for the world to see and for her to acknowledge many moons ago. But the dreams it caught were too little or too insignificant. She would often sit by the window and mourn that it hadn’t caught some positivity along the way, either. From this spot, she could see the gulmohar tree in her front yard. As the rains set in, the red beneath the tree increased. The flowers glistened in an after rain effect. It warmed her heart to see but the warmth faded away eventually. The tree went through cycles of growth, flowering and then withering. She, on the other hand, felt stagnant in her wilting state.
She looked back at her dream catcher in anticipation of it fulfilling her dreams. It never crossed her mind that she could change her life by herself; that she could bring her life some vigor. She depended on the dream catcher for an unknown reason. She hadn’t considered herself superstitious but it felt easy. In those few years, she didn’t want to be responsible for her mistakes or her actions. So she gambled it by placing faith in a stringed, colourful ornament. Perhaps it would betray her and perhaps it would disappoint her. But at least this way, she could still place the blame on some thing or someone else. The onus was off her. She bore the burdens of her short life’s mistakes already and it was difficult enough. At the time when she purchased the dream catcher, she had relinquished her dreams to it. She is yet to take ownership of them. It just seemed too big a step to take.