This is a story that I wrote a few years back in the form of a Native American story from a Native American storyteller.
I remembered it because of this post by Jeff Nguyen about Columbus Day which you can read here: http://deconstructingmyths.com/2014/10/13/it-aint-arawak-day/
In our tribe we keep dream catchers for our children as they sleep. Lately, even the high chiefs of the tribe have started to keep dream catchers at their side as they sleep. It is because they have been haunted by the white omen. He makes even the bravest of all men cry and wail like babies after they have just been born, only this cry is strange to man. It is unnatural, just as all things brought by the white omen.
Sometimes, when men believe they might be brave enough to have escaped these nightmares they put their dream catcher away, only to be filled with horror. Worst of all nightmares was one dreamt by Bidzil, or strong, one of the greatest warriors of our tribe. He said the dream started as if it was a normal day, like any other. He was going with the other men, to find the buffalo herd. He took his bow and arrow, prayed for forgiveness from the buffalo, but just before he shot the arrow he heard it, and the buffalo collapsed. The world devoured in a sea of darkness around him. All he could see was the white omen on his sacred dog.
The white omen grew larger, demanding more and more, in increasing rage. He threw a fit as a child often does screaming for gold and land. Suddenly, all Bidzil could see was spots, filled with pus. He saw his companions reappear, dazed and vomiting, getting weaker and weaker. He looked down at the spots growing onto him, as his head became a pounding drum. As his knees buckled and he landed on the barren earth he took one last look at the white omen as he laughed at the weakness of Bidzil and his people. It was over, the white Omen would finish him.
When he had finally lost all hope, Bidzil saw something change, the darkness disintegrated and the white omen whimpered as he turned to dust. Bidzil could feel himself slowly rising and watched as his tribesmen did the same.
“It is over,” he said as he and his and his companions slowly rose. The sky cleared as the buffalo moved along. Bidzil woke up to see his daughter, Abedabun, sight of day.
“Noshi, father, I saw you stirred so I brought you a dream catcher.” As Bidzil turned to the dreamcatcher, he saw all of his nightmare caught in its web, as it should be.