Mandy Newham-Cobb illustration
Dreamcatcher
As with most things good and holy—Velveeta cheese, Dunkin’ Donuts coffee—dream catchers tend to churn my stomach when overconsumed.
Don’t get me wrong: I love the message behind them, that we can filter good dreams from bad. But I’ve long had a love-hate relationship with this particular tradition.
Indigenous or not, dream catchers have become commonplace. While it is not surprising to see a surplus in native communities such as the Qualla Boundary, their presence has also inundated the “hollers” and dirt roads of Appalachia more generally. As a young girl, I made them at Vacation Bible School, though I certainly can not recount the associated scripture. At present, I rely on their placement inside cars to identify if I am in the correct parking lot of a Cherokee High School away ballgame.
According to general consensus, the first recorded use of dream catchers happened among the Anishinabe and Ojibwa, later adopted by Lakota. Yet this art form has emerged as one of the most generic symbols of pan-Indianism. Dream catchers adorn living-room walls next to their velvet Elvis brothers. They are etched tenderly into youthful biceps during spring-break flashes of courage and dangle from rearview car mirrors like their rosary bead counterparts. It is this specific display, as car decor, that seems the most unsettling to me.
Just as I’d prefer the semi-truck driver beside me didn’t crank up Barry Manilow and spray down his cab with lavender-scented air freshener, I have wondered if all those who hang a dream catcher in their windshields are hoping to employ its power of dream manipulation. If so, do they hope to do this at 60 miles an hour on Interstate 40?
By exploring more deeply why dream catchers became so entrenched in this region, I have learned to better understand the underlying message. I’m also learning to quell personal suspicion of misappropriation. Even among native peoples, specific designs and uses of dream catchers vary, so it should seem natural that the same holds true when embraced by other cultures.
Anthropologist and ethnographer Frances Densmore conducted the most extensive study of early dream catchers, describing them as “wooden hoops about 3 1/2 inches in diameter filled with imitation of a spider’s web. In old times the web was made of nettle-stalk twine and colored red bark with the juice of bloodroot and the inner bark of wild plum.” Modern descriptions include the use of willow bark and sinew. My Bible school masterpiece consisted of thick thread and a plastic ring wrapped with faux leather.
Densmore goes on to explains that for the Pawnee, “the netting symbolized the Spider Woman, a deity who controlled the buffalo”—an animal critical to survival. This translation emphasizes empowerment over one’s environment. Similarly, according to the Lakota belief, the web represents that of Iktomi (trickster and teacher). As Iktomi wove, he explained that different forces and directions can disrupt nature’s balance, and that the web should be used to propel dreams and goals.
In the end, with a symbol so widely commoditized, whether the dream catcher traps a good or a bad dream seems to matter little. Even so, you can’t deny the positive thoughts that go into the act of hanging one. From the earthly sinew and willow used to fashion them to the stories citing the spider’s weaving of its web, a dream catcher’s “magic” comes from a source that all humanity can appreciate: nature. Those of us from Appalachia revel in nature’s power, beauty, and influence. If we could somehow harness this power to will our own lives toward positive ends? The idea is irresistible. For a people (whether native or Appalachian) known for survival in the face of uncertainty, being able to assert symbolic control is a powerful message of both desire and will.
One cannot put on a headdress and become chief of a Plains tribe or lather one’s face with red paint and become a warrior. But, if before closing our eyes at night, we find comfort in the belief or wish that the orb dangling above our heads will lead only to sweet dreams, well, then mind over matter just might prevail. Some employ lucid dream techniques, some hypnosis. But for the rest of us, perhaps all we really need is a tangible reminder that we retain some control over our lives, even—or maybe especially—while unconscious.