The Dreamcatcher and the Crescent Moon

All participants of this story are 18 and older.

The cultural practices of Native Americans were deeply misunderstood and looked down upon by the colonizers. However, indigenous people lived a life celebrating individualism and harmony with nature. They respected sexuality, arguably making them paradoxically one of the most liberated and attractive nations. This is one fictional story.

In the heart of the 15th century, Ismail, a handsome and daring Arab voyager, set sail towards the unknown territories of the Americas, driven by a blend of curiosity and the desire for discovery. His ship, a sturdy vessel laden with provisions and hopes, cut through the vast and unyielding ocean until one fateful day when a violent storm descended upon them, turning the sea into a monstrous entity. The storm was merciless, and despite Ismail’s attempts to steer his crew to safety, the ship was overwhelmed. Wood splintered, sails tore, and as darkness enveloped him, Ismail was cast into the icy waters, praying for mercy.

Dawn painted the sky in hues of orange and pink when Ismail awoke on the sandy shores of an unfamiliar land. His ship was wrecked, fragments scattered along the coastline, a testament to the night’s horrors. As he staggered to his feet and looked around for his crew he could see no one. That is until his eyes met those of a group of Native American tribespeople who had gathered to inspect the strange arrival.

The tribespeople were cautious yet curious, led by Chief Ahote, a man whose presence commanded respect. Among them was Ahote’s daughter, Leela, a young woman with intelligent eyes and a confident air. To Ismail, she approached him with words of peace in sign language. Then to his astonishment, she said “Ahlan wa sahlan”, which means welcome in Arabic

“You are safe here,” Leela assured him, putting her hand to her breast and helping him to his feet with a gentle grasp. “Thank you,” Ismail replied, bewildered. “Who are you, are you real, How do you know Arabic, Where am I? Where is my crew?”

Leela smiled gently, the warmth in her eyes softening the lines of concern on her face. She put a finger across his lips.  She motioned with her fingers and then stretched out her hands. 

“You are far from your home, in a land not marked on your maps,” she answered”. Around them, the other tribespeople murmured among themselves, their eyes fixed on Ismail with a mixture of curiosity and restraint. “You are not the first Arab to come here.”

Leela turned and spoke to her father and the others in their tongue, her words flowing and emphatic. Chief Ahote nodded, then addressed Ismail through his daughter’s translation. “You are in the land of the Anikawi. The sea has brought you to us, and now, you must prove you mean no harm.”

Ismail bowed his head slightly, recognizing the gravity of the chief’s condition. “I am a peaceful traveler,” he assured them, his heart pounding with a mix of apprehension and the adrenaline of survival. “I seek only knowledge and friendship.”

Chief Ahote studied him, his gaze piercing and discerning. “Many have come before you, claiming peace, yet bringing strife,” he said, skepticism lacing his tone. Leela translated his words, her voice steady but her hands betraying a slight tremor.

Ismail felt the weight of suspicion and knew he must tread carefully. “I am alone,” he explained, gesturing to the broken remains of his ship. “My intentions are not to conquer but to learn. I bring stories from afar, and I wish to hear yours as well.”

Leela relayed his words, and a discussion erupted among the tribespeople. Some were visibly wary, others curious. Ismail watched as Leela advocated for him, her fluency bridging worlds. After a long moment, Chief Ahote raised his hand, silencing the voices.

“We will watch you,” he declared through Leela. “You will stay with the hunters. Learn our ways, and share yours. Time will tell your true spirit.”

Ismail nodded, accepting the chief’s decision with a mix of relief and anxiety. As the crowd began to disperse, Leela approached him. “Come,” she said, “I will show you to the hunters. They are my brothers, and they are not easily convinced. But do not fear; I will help you understand our ways.”

As they walked towards the edge of the village, Ismail felt the enormity of his new reality. The path ahead was fraught with challenges but also filled with the possibility of new understanding and unexpected alliances.

As they approached the hunters’ quarters, a modest cluster of dwellings at the edge of the village, Leela spoke about her people with evident pride. “My brothers are skilled trackers and know the land as one knows their own soul. They will teach you how to read the earth and the sky.”

Ismail listened intently, his admiration for her knowledge and her connection to her culture growing with each word. She was also captivating, each word measured and her clothes revealed a figure that drew him closer. “I am eager to learn from them,” he said, “and from you.”

Leela glanced at him, a slight blush coloring her cheeks at his directness. “And I, from you. You must have many stories of distant lands and seas.” Their walk turned into a series of lessons on the Anikawi customs and the surrounding nature. Ismail noticed that Leela often chose paths that allowed him to appreciate the beauty of the landscape—a quietly thoughtful gesture that did not go unnoticed. He began to share tales of his travels, describing the sprawling deserts of Arabia and the bustling markets of Damascus. With each story, he saw her eyes light up with wonder and curiosity.

As the early morning sun cast a golden glow over the land, Ismail set out for a walk to familiarize himself further with the surrounding landscape of the Anikawi village. The air was crisp, filled with the scent of pine and the gentle warmth of the rising sun. As he wandered, the serene silence was broken by a melodious sound, the soft singing of a woman intertwined with the gentle murmur of flowing water.

Intrigued, Ismail followed the sound, his feet leading him through a network of well-trodden paths veiled by the thick foliage of the forest. The melody grew clearer, more enchanting with each step, guiding him like a beacon. Peering through a cluster of dense bushes, he found himself overlooking a small, secluded stream that curved gracefully through the landscape.

There, in the midst of this natural serenity, was Leela. She was standing in the shallow water, her back to him, bathing in the stream. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, dappling her skin with patches of light and shadow, and her voice carried the melody that had drawn him here. Ismail’s breath caught in his throat at the sight. Her grace and the unassuming intimacy of the moment captivated him, and he found himself unable to look away, even though propriety demanded it.

Lost in the beauty of the scene, Ismail’s hand shifted against a rock, unintentionally dislodging a small cascade of stones down the slope. The clattering sound shattered the peaceful air, and Leela turned sharply towards the noise. Realizing she was no longer alone, she instinctively reached to cover herself with her hands, her eyes scanning the bushes.

Panicked, Ismail knew he had intruded upon a private moment and quickly backed away, his heart pounding as he stumbled through the underbrush. In his haste to escape, he barely managed to keep quiet, his presence undoubtedly known.

From her position in the stream, Leela’s initial shock turned into recognition as she pieced together who it might have been. A faint, knowing smile touched her lips despite the awkwardness of the situation. Somehow, the brief, chaotic encounter didn’t alarm her as much as it intrigued her. She had seen the hesitation, the unintentional nature of the voyeurism in the brief glimpse she caught of him.

Back at his dwelling, Ismail was mortified by his own behavior. He planned to apologize at the first opportunity, unsure of how she would receive him now. Meanwhile, Leela, still standing in the calming flow of the stream, found herself replaying the incident in her mind, her smile lingering. The melody she had been singing faded into a soft chuckle, as she shook her head slightly, amused and somehow flattered by the unexpected shyness of her observer.

In the evening they met, both had that awareness about each either, but neither said a word. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the land, Ismail and Leela found themselves gravitating towards the same stream. Ismail had learned to catch fish using the techniques taught by the hunters, and he offered to teach Leela the method.

“Like this,” he said, demonstrating how to weave the reeds into a makeshift net. “It’s different from your methods, but perhaps it can be useful.”

Leela watched his hands work, noting his dexterity. “You are a quick learner,” she remarked, taking the net from him and giving it a try. Her fingers fumbled at first, and they laughed together—a warm, easy laughter that echoed lightly in the cooling air. “You have a good teacher,” Ismail said with a smile, his eyes meeting hers. In that moment, their hands brushed, and a palpable connection sparked between them. Leela’s laughter faded into a soft smile, and she looked away shyly. Ismail turned towards her, “you know earlier today I almost caught this beautiful, huge fish, but it got away.” She looked at him trying to look angry, “yes I know exactly which fish you are talking about” and with that they burst into laughter.

Over the following weeks, their relationship deepened, forged in the fires of shared experiences and mutual respect. Ismail respected her wisdom and strength, and Leela admired his resilience and openness. Their evenings were often spent by the river, exchanging stories and dreams under the canopy of stars.

One day, as they were returning from a gathering where Ismail had adeptly used an Anikawi phrase, Leela touched his arm lightly. “You have honored us with your efforts to understand,” she said softly. “My father sees this, and so do I.”

Her words, simple yet profound, filled Ismail with a sense of accomplishment and belonging. He looked at her, his heart swelling with an affection that was no longer just about respect but something deeper, something like love. “It is you who have taught me the most important lessons,” he confessed. “Not just of survival, but of the heart.”

Leela met his gaze, her expression tender. “And you have shown me that the world is larger and more filled with wonders than I ever imagined,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

As they stood there, the last light of day illuminating their faces, it was clear that a bond had formed between them. As the weeks turned into months, Ismail’s integration into the Anikawi tribe deepened, and his relationship with Leela grew into a tender yet unspoken bond. However, their growing closeness did not escape the watchful eyes of Chief Ahote. One crisp morning, as the tribe gathered for a communal breakfast, the chief called Ismail aside.

Chief Ahote’s expression was stern, his voice firm but fair. “Ismail, you have shown great respect for our ways and have learned much,” he began, his eyes piercing. “But I see the way you look at my daughter and the way she returns your gaze. If your intentions are true, you must prove that you are worthy of her.”

Ismail’s heart raced, but his voice was steady. “I am ready to do whatever is necessary, Chief Ahote,” he said boldly. The chief nodded, his gaze softening slightly. “There is a sacred site, deep within the forest to the north. It is a place of great spiritual power for our people, but it is guarded by challenges and perils known only to those who have faced them. You must retrieve the White Orchid that blooms there only once every ten years. It is said that he who brings the orchid back has the blessings of the spirits.”

Ismail listened intently, the weight of the task dawning on him. Yet, his resolve did not waver, fueled by his love for Leela. “Thank you, Chief Ahote. I will not fail,” Ismail pledged, his determination clear in his voice. The next morning, with a small pack of provisions and a spear given to him by one of the hunters, Ismail set out for the forest. The path was fraught with challenges; thick underbrush, treacherous terrain, and wild animals were just the beginning. Days turned into nights, and Ismail pressed on, driven by his unwavering love for Leela and his desire to prove himself to her father.

One evening, as Ismail navigated a particularly dense part of the forest, he encountered a fierce bear. The beast roared menacingly, standing between him and his path forward. Remembering the techniques taught by the hunters, Ismail managed to evade the bear without harming it, using his knowledge of the animal’s behavior to escape.

Exhausted but unharmed, Ismail continued deeper into the forest. Finally, after several days of hardship, he reached the sacred site. It was a serene clearing, bathed in moonlight, with a single White Orchid glowing ethereally in the center. With a reverence born of respect for the Anikawi and their beliefs, Ismail approached the orchid. He whispered a prayer of gratitude and carefully harvested the flower, ensuring not to disturb the surrounding area.

The journey back was no less perilous, but Ismail’s spirit soared with the hope of his return to Leela. Each step homeward was powered by visions of her smile, her strength, and the life they might share.

When he finally emerged from the forest, the White Orchid in hand, the tribe greeted him with awe and respect. Chief Ahote met him at the village’s edge, his expression now one of approval and pride. “You have done well, Ismail. You have shown bravery and respect for our ways,” Chief Ahote declared, his voice loud enough for all to hear.

Leela ran to Ismail, her eyes filled with tears of relief and joy. As they embraced, the tribe celebrated, and Chief Ahote placed his hand on both their shoulders, a silent acknowledgment of Ismail’s acceptance into the tribe and into his daughter’s life.

Leela watched him with wide-eyed wonder, touched by the solemnity and beauty of his rituals. Her gaze held a deep respect for his practices, her heart swelling with affection as she recognized the sacredness he attributed to their union.

Their cultural differences, rather than driving them apart, enriched their understanding and appreciation of each other. In that tender moment, illuminated by flickering lanterns and surrounded by the symbols of their united cultures, they found a beautiful harmony. Their love, a bridge between worlds, was strengthened by the shared respect and the melding of their traditions into something uniquely theirs.

Leela ran to Ismail, her eyes filled with tears of relief and joy. As they embraced, the tribe celebrated, and Chief Ahote placed his hand on both their shoulders, a silent acknowledgment of Ismail’s acceptance into the tribe and into his daughter’s life. As the cheering subsided, Chief Ahote raised his other hand, pointing towards the heavens. His voice, deep and resonant, carried over the crowd.

“See the vast sky above us,” he began, his gaze sweeping over his people and resting on the couple. “It is under this same sky that the one power, the Creator of all, has woven the tapestry of our lives and brought these two souls together.”

Moved by Chief Ahote’s words, Ismail stepped forward, his heart full. He gently disengaged from Leela, turned towards the east, and prostrated himself briefly. Rising, he too pointed his index finger to the heavens, his gesture one of deep reverence and unity in faith.

“In the vastness of all creation, we are guided by the same light, the one God, Allah,” Ismail spoke, his voice clear and sincere. “It is He who has crafted our paths to cross, merging our worlds in His wisdom.”

Chief Ahote nodded, a look of respect crossing his features. “The Great Spirit that guides you is the same that has nurtured these lands from time immemorial,” he agreed. “Today, we see His work in the love that binds you two.”

Ismail looked towards Leela, taking her hand in his. “And it is in this divine grace that we find not just love but also the peace and understanding that bridges our differences,” he added, his eyes shining with emotion.

The air around them seemed to hum with the power of their shared acknowledgment of a higher power, binding them together not just in matrimony but also in a mutual respect for their faiths and beliefs. The tribe around them, a mix of nods and murmured assents, accepted this testament to a union blessed both on earth and by the heavens.

The day of Ismail and Leela’s wedding dawned clear and bright, a benevolent sky watching over what was to be a joyous union of cultures and hearts. The entire Anikawi tribe gathered, buzzing with excitement and draped in their finest attire. Garments rich in color and adorned with intricate beadwork shimmered in the sunlight, each piece telling its own story of heritage and craftsmanship.

For Ismail, the customs were fascinating and unfamiliar, yet he embraced each with the eagerness of a devoted heart. The ceremony was held in the open, under the expanse of the sky, reflecting the Anikawi belief that love, like life, should have no bounds. At the center of the gathering, a circle of flowers and herbs had been laid out, symbols of fertility and life, around which the wedding would take place.

Chief Ahote presided over the ceremony. He began by smudging the couple with sacred smoke from burning sage, purifying them, and warding off any ill spirits. This practice, new to Ismail, felt soothing, the fragrant smoke curling into the air and mingling with the gentle breeze.

Next, Leela and Ismail were asked to drink from a shared vessel, a beautifully carved gourd, symbolizing their union and the blending of their lives. Ismail tasted the sweet, earthy liquid, aware of every nuance of the moment—the weight of the gourd, the softness of Leela’s hands as they touched his, guiding him in the ritual.

The climax of the ceremony was the wrapping of a single, elaborately woven blanket around their shoulders, signifying their coming together as one. The fabric, warm and soft, enveloped them both, Leela’s head resting lightly against Ismail’s shoulder. As they turned to face their people, the tribe erupted in cheers and drumming, the festive sounds echoing through the open land.

After the ceremony, as the sun began to set, casting long shadows and painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, Ismail and Leela retreated to their new home—a tepee that had been specially prepared for them. The tepee was modest but beautifully adorned. She entered first and asked him to wait. After a few moments had passed her hand came out and beckoned him in.

Ismail gently pushed open the doorway flap to their tepee, letting the soft evening light spill into the dimly lit interior. His eyes took a moment to adjust to the change in light, and he paused to take in the scene before him. Contrary to the sparse and utilitarian setup he might have expected, the interior was warm and inviting, thoughtfully arranged to make a comforting dwelling for newlyweds.

The center of the tepee was occupied by a small fire pit, a faint trail of smoke curling upwards, telling of a fire that had been burning until recently. This should have been lit in welcome, but instead, the embers were quietly smoldering, casting a gentle glow that highlighted the rich textures around. To the side, a bed of soft furs and woven blankets was neatly laid out, showcasing the craftsmanship of Leela’s people.

Their new home was a blend of both their worlds—hanging on the walls were tools and weapons from his travels, alongside the traditional Anikawi decorations of beads and skins. Each item told a story, a testament to their individual journeys and the life they were now beginning together.

In this quiet moment, Ismail felt a profound gratitude. He whispered a soft prayer of thanks, for the journey that had brought him here, and for the future they would build together in this warm, lovingly adorned tepee.

Inside, the air was warm and the space intimate, filled with the scent of cedar and sweetgrass. Lanterns hung softly glowing, casting a gentle light over the interior. Ismail and Leela entered, their shyness apparent despite the strength of their bond. They looked at each other, their eyes reflecting a mix of joy, anticipation, and the profound love they shared. Leela, dressed in a traditional garment of vibrant colors that danced as the lantern light touched them, looked radiant. Her face and body were adorned with intricate paintwork, the designs symbolizing blessings and protection. The delicate lines traced her features gracefully, enhancing her natural beauty and the solemnity of the occasion.

As they moved closer, he paused.  Before this intimate moment, Ismail had quietly excused himself to perform a ritual ablution, cleansing himself as his faith prescribed. Facing towards Mecca, he prayed devoutly, his words a soft murmur of hope and faith, asking Allah to bless their union with happiness, understanding, and enduring love. After his prayer, he made a supplication, blowing gently over himself and then towards Leela, a gesture meant to share the blessings he had sought.

Now they resumed their moment of intimacy, Ismail leaned in for a kiss, instinctively aiming for her lips. However, Leela tilted her head slightly, attempting to press her nose against his in the traditional Anikawi gesture of affection and union. The brief confusion brought a moment of hesitation, their movements awkwardly mismatched. Seeing her intent, Ismail paused, a smile spreading across his face as he realized the difference in their expressions of affection. With a gentle touch, he cradled her face in his hands, guiding her in a soft, understanding manner. He kissed her tenderly on the lips, an act new to Leela but one she accepted with a shy, blossoming smile, feeling the warmth of his love.

She lay there on this makeshift bed. As he sat down beside her, he admired the peacefulness of her face, the gentle rise and fall of her chest with each breath, and the delicate patterns of paint that still adorned her skin—marks of their special day.

 Ismail took a moment to stroke her hair softly, his touch light as if not to disturb the intricate braids and feathers woven into it. The warmth of the tepee, enhanced by the presence of the woman he loved, filled him with a deep sense of contentment and belonging. The small fire which seemed to be asleep started to glow brighter. He gently pulled the furs from her. Other than the body paint, she was bare skin, and her full breasts and dark nipples called out to him. He took hold and cupped one of her breasts and slowly massaged it from the outside in, towards her nipple. Then simultaneously he moved his hand to the other breast and took the warmed-up breast into his mouth. She was making small moans of pleasure, and he could feel he was all aroused. His manhood for a faint moment made the arc and pointed up and towards her. She stroked his member and spread her legs. She then licked her hand and used the saliva to stroke his manhood. There was no waiting, he suckled her other nipple and he alternated between her lips and her breast.  As he entered her two worlds united, two cultures, two languages, two faiths, became one. That is the power of the universal language of love. Their noses touched again and they both smiled. The rest is history.