Dream Catcher

Chapter 1

I lay in my bed facing the ceiling. Everything was just going wrong. Nothing was going right. Well, for me at least. I guess you'd say I'm pretty lucky... maybe. I mean, I get a small education from tutors, but it's way too boring to be enjoyable. I do like reading though. It's an effective way to pass time.

Anyway. Back to my woes. Me and my mother went to the market together to pick up some more bread and water from the well. But some bastard ran into me! And that's not all, he ruined my dress! I had fallen, and mud covered my white dress. Now, I can't wear it at all! So, I'm sitting in my room, waiting for my mother to clean it, while my brother and father are out at court.

My father has been requested to work in court. Probably as a Duke in the nobility. He didn't come to them; they came to him. Honestly, I don't really want him to work at the court because I must go more places. But I do get to look gorgeous. Also, my house is also the most beautiful home in my country. It has a white exterior and many windows with brown shutters. It has a brown roof that matches the shutters. And I almost never have to do anything for myself. My servants (I have my very own servants) cook for me. They dress me. They make my bed and do my chores. Sometimes, they even brush my teeth. But not usually, because that's a little awkward.

I sit up. Sighing, I grab a new dress, a chainse with a brown under bust and green dress. I grab it, calling to one of my maids. Olivia. She's sweet and exceptionally beautiful, not that I'd ever admit that though. She runs in, after thirty seconds of waiting. Such a slacker. She pulls it over my head, fitting it on me. Grabbing the strings to the corset, and pulling them tight, causing me to gasp. I almost whacked her hand, but I think twice. She's only doing her job. She stops for a moment. She can tell I'm annoyed. She strings it together and grabs my wooden brush from the white wood vanity across the room. I have a large bed, with big fluffy sheets that are white. An oak wood floor, and a huge closet with many gowns. The walls are a sage green, and flowerpots hang around my window. The shutters are open because it is daytime. But normally they are closed. Olivia brushes my dark hair. It falls below the small of my back, and it feels so soft. I close my eyes. She leaves the room. Leaving me too my own devices. I sit down at my vanity. Glancing out the windows I look out at the large green pastures past my home. Looking at the iron gate surrounding our house too keeps commoners out. It's effective, but once a peasant man broke in trying to steal our riches. I turn back to the mirror and run my fingers along my tan skin. Skimming across my forehead where my dream catcher mark lays. It is in the middle of my forehead, it's an upside-down crescent moon. A gold color. Everyone is born with a symbol somewhere on their body. And so does someone else. Someone has a symbol, and one of them can catch dreams from the other. You don't have to know them. They could even be your brother. But I haven't met mine yet. I probably won't ever. Most die not knowing who their dream catcher is. But lately I haven't had many dreams, and thoughts leave my mind easier. Only the most powerful dream catchers can take thoughts and dreams away. My mother describes it as a string connecting them both. Except, one of them isn't able to pass the barrier of the mind, while the other can. No matter how far away you are, the string still connects. I wonder who I am connected to. My mother has a symbol of a swan on her wrist, while my father has a symbol of a ram on his neck. It doesn't matter where the symbol is, your dream catcher has it in the same place. You really could run into them any day. I hope I do.

My thoughts scatter from the sound of a knock on my door. I stand up, "Bridget! Come on! Your father is returning home, along with your brother!"

"Coming!" I ran towards the door, and opened it, running along the green carpet, and dark oak railing, with the white walls lined with gold. Paintings cover the walls, and the stairs coil inwards toward the front doors, and the two halls below. My feet tap on the wooden flooring once I meet the bottom level. Smoothing out my dress I wait for the rap rap rap on the door. The chandelier above glistens from the open windows. I smell food cooking in the kitchen behind me in the hall. The dining room is just behind me. Two small couches are near the doors, on either side. My mother comes down the stairs, wearing a skimpy red dress that most would discriminate against. But I think it is very beautiful. Her blond hair is wrapped in a tight curled bun, and her hazel eyes are boring into mine with an intensity that screams, be polite.