“Ive been having very disturbing dreams lately,” Barry told the old woman sitting in her rocking chair by the fire, her gnarled fingers weaving intricate patterns into a dream catcher. “But I’ll be honest with you, I don’t believe in this old Indian folklore that sleeping with one of these things over my bed will catch and stop my dark and chaotic nightmares of late and transform them into peaceful, serene visions. The only reason I’m here is because my fiancée insisted.”

“These dreams, they frighten you?” the old woman asked.

“Yes, they scare the hell out of me,” Barry said. “They wake me up…at least I think I’m awake…but they continue. One night I was sure someone was pushing my mattress off of my bed frame, but no one was in the room. An another night I sensed someone in my room about to try to kill me, but when I opened my eyes she suddenly disappeared.”

“Son, you may not believe what I’m about to tell you, but dream catchers function as protective talismans. They filter your dreams so that good ones pass through the web and glide down feathers to the sleeper, while bad dreams become trapped in the web until morning light destroys them. The circular shape symbolizes the circle of life, and the beads represent captured dreams,” the old woman said. “But you must believe in the power of the dream catcher to capture your demons before they get to you. If you don’t open your mind to that, it won’t work.” she put down what she was working on, stood up and walked over to a table. She reached for a bag and placed a large, ornate dream catcher that was hanging in front of a window into the bag, and handed it to him.

“I am giving this to you as a gift,” she said, handing him the bag. “Hang it on the wall behind your bed tonight. Do not drink alcohol. Do not partake of any cannabis or hallucinogens. Just close your eyes and drift away. Do that for a week and then come back and if you wish, you can pay me what you think it was worth to you.”

A week later Barry visited the old woman. He handed her seven one hundred bills. “You asked me to come back after a week and pay you what I think it was worth to me,” he said. “Here is a hundred dollars a night for the best seven nights of sleep I’ve gotten in ages. No demons, no evil spirits, no nightmares, no poltergeists. Just beautiful, serene, restful sleep.

“I’m happy, son, that you were able to set aside your skepticism and that you allowed yourself to believe in the power of my dream catcher,” the old woman said, stuffing the seven hundred dollar bills into a small embroidered purse.

When Barry left, the old woman got a smile on her face. PT Barnum was right, she thought to herself. There is a sucker born every minute.

This post was written for Kevin’s No Theme Thursday prompt. Kevin presents us with 20 AI-generated images and we can choose any one and write a post about the image.