Magical Journey and Time Travel

Date: 5/31/2022

It all started with a tattoo-artist-witch, a giant birdskull, and an impulsive teenager. That impulsive teenager was me. It was my 18th birthday, and I was being accepted into a rite of sorts. The ritual was simple: I got a tattoo, and would travel back in time for as long as it took to get the tattoo. It all had to be done by a special tattoo artist. The tattoo artist in question was, of course, a witch. She looked like a normal tattoo artist— short bleached hair, swept across her forehead, two sleeves of tattoos, wearing patchy overall shorts and a black patterned T-shirt with high black doc martens. Her magic worked like this: she could link two time periods using one design. That is, when she tattooed one person with, for example, a triangle, then the next person she tattooed with a triangle would switch time periods with the first. So if the first person she tattooed with a triangle was tattooed in 1980, and the second person in 2010, they would swap places for as long as it took to get the tattoo. There are two rituals one undergoes by this artist. One when they’re 18 years old, and one when they’re 80. The one when they’re 80 allows someone else to travel to their time, so that the ritual can continue. Before getting my tattoos the lady takes my stuff— just my wallet, a bandaid, and my phone— and puts it in her pocket. The first tattoo I got was a birdskull. It looked like a plague doctor mask. I brought the skull in, it was about the size of my own head, with a long white beak— yellowed with age— and two dark holes like caverns in the front of the skeleton. Using the skull as a reference she transferred the tattoo to me with little dots, a stick and poke tattoo. After the first stick, time changed. I looked down at my arm to see a completed tattoo of the birdskull, realistic and beautiful. She tells me I have about three hours; I ask what date it is and she tells me to go find out. Before I leave she pulls my stuff out of her pocket and gives it back to me. I go outside and only the shop remains the same. Everything else is old-timey; I make my way to my school and find that the building is different. People stare because I’m in the body of the man who got my matching tattoo, aka some dude who is definitely not young enough to be wandering through a school building. His arms are more tan and muscular than mine and he’s taller, so I feel awkward walking with his long legs, and that must also draw attention, the way I stumble as if it’s one of my first times walking. Once inside I asked a passing student what the date— and year— was. She said something like, the same date, but 1990 something. I eventually ended up befriending a kid at lunch who was punk rock and sitting alone; they were sketching something cool and I asked if I could sit with them. I told them I was from the future and showed them my phone, which had no data or WiFi but worked otherwise, and explained that I was going through a rite of sorts, leaving out the fact that I travelled using a nearby tattoo shop— I didn’t want people flocking to time travel only to find out that only certain ones like me could do it. I even show them pictures of what I really look like. The kid is surprisingly cool and offers to skip school to show me around, and we go around the town, finding cool stuff from the time period. I end up going back to the tattoo shop after about 3 hours, taking a picture with the kid, and sit down, handing her my things once again— which now include a record and a doodle from the kid, as well as some old timey clothes I bought. All of a sudden I’m back where I started. This happens twice more; once, I travel back again, this time to the 40s. I befriend a secretly gay man who spots me immediately, in the body of a very fruity-looking man, and I explain to him where I’m from. Once again I leave with some old stuff and a picture with my new friend. The next time I travel back to the time when my parents were in school. I meet my mom and dad but don’t explain who I am or anything, instead befriending one of my mom’s friends and explaining to them. They manage to get me a discreet picture with my parents and I leave with the picture and some notes from my dad’s school book. After this, the dream changes. The tattoo artist’s job as a witch was to send people back in time. Now it was time for my job as a witch, something I figured out while travelling: it was my duty to recruit new witches. It starts with a boy I find on the beach, who I bring with me on a journey. I wind up finding seven kids who I lead to a train which goes to a magic school of sorts. First, though, I must unlock their powers. I do this by giving them a hug. The first boy is small and skinny, like he never got enough to eat, excitable and a bit mean. He has very blonde hair that sticks up at odd angles and brown eyes. He’s pale with a few freckles on his arms and legs, and he wears loose jeans tied up with a shoestring and a loose, green-striped button-up, torn near his waist. I hug him, though he tries to squirm away, and suddenly his chest glows with brown light eminating from the center. In the middle of the brown light a simplistic symbol of a mountain appears. Then it fades. His abilities have to do with the earth. Next is a slightly overweight kid who’s even paler than the last, with flat brown hair that sticks to his head and well-fitted clothes, a T-shirt and sweats. He’s shy and sweet and hugs me back. When I step away his chest glows a baby teal; a snowflake symbol appears near the center. He has ice powers. The next girl, with fiery red hair and dark freckles on her tan face, has water powers. Then there’s an androgynous kid with leaf/nature powers. Then, the dream ends.