Poem: "The Dream Dump"
Well, it took some doing, but I am a determined tracker! This is the poem that finally answered the question beetiger asked about what happens to the nightmares that get caught in dreamcatchers. (Plus wyld_dandelyon requested poetry about dreamcatchers, too.) I realized that it connects with a previous poem I wrote for the October 2008 fishbowl, "Nightmares for Sale SOLD." janet_miles has sponsored both of these poems.
The Dream Dump
"I will tell you what happens,"
says the old man with tar-stained teeth,
"to the nightmares caught by dreamcatchers."
He stirs his stick in the smouldering fire,
and sparks fly up from the garbage dump.
"They come here. They come to me.
All the trash in the city winds up here."
He cackles, and the gravelly sound
rattles around in his thin chest.
"I grind them up and cook them down,
then I hand them off to the nightmare dealer.
He gives me a piece of the action from sales."
Acrid black smoke rises from the ashes
as he gives the fire another poke.
"He does a Halloween special for the kiddies ...
but most of his business is up the Hill."