the thieves called dreamcatchers

There are fingertips made of feathers
that caress my cheeks in the dead of night
bound to a web of weaved thread
who dangle captured beads in front of my face.

They twirl like dancers who have perfected their moves for centuries,
but can never quite decide which way to turn
lost and lonely
seeking and searching.

_{(They call the masters of them 'Dreamcatchers'
who steal people's nightmares
because after centuries of abyssal sleeping
they'll do whatever they can to dream -
it's just their luck that nightmares are dreams too)}