A Pocketful of Dreams

Ever since I myself was very small, there has been a special place in my heart for miniature... things. Doll houses do come to mind, but smaller still is best; figurines the size of an ice cube, a cat's eye, a pinky's nail.

I create miniature magical gardens, in tiny glass bottles that nestle perfectly in the palm of your hand.

When you're grappling with mental health issues, hobbies are extremely important. They help take up a space in your mind that would otherwise be filled with a hollowness that eats you away, until you are left as a husk, watching time leave you behind.

Since I have many, many illnesses, I have acquired many, many hobbies: pretty little occupations that allow me to express the more beautiful parts of my mind, and leave my house strewn with incredible pigments, lush fabrics, pearlescent powders and enchanting sparkles. To set foot in my craft room is to be transported into another world: the lovlier parts of me.

Many months I have spent painting, sewing, embroidering, building, collecting beads and mylar and rhinestones. I make faerie houses, large and small... but my favourite of all is the bottles.

There were ten drawers in my house simply overflowing with supplies I had from making the fae houses. The first faerie house I ever made was my bedroom. Then I realised: I could do it on a smaller scale! How sweet that would be. So, mostly, I would make single-rooms or shadow boxes, filled with faerie aesthetic: tiny strands of twinkle lights, hand sewn bunting, and more faux flowers than the average person sees in a lifetime.

Then, one day, I saw one hundred tiny glass bottles. The potential for faerie aesthetic on an even smaller scale sang its siren song. Nervously, I added the bottles to my cart, and all the tiny accessories I wanted to go with it. The packages came rolling in, and so the creation process began...

Gently, I administer three droplets of rain, made of resin, coating the bottom so that the other items will stand tall and strong and still. Sunlight streams in the window, fresh and energetic, bringing the scent of warmth, wood and glass from the windowpane, as we work together to set every other piece into place.

Carefully, I trim dried flowers and leaves - which make me want to sneeze and smile in equal measure - as well as artificial moss in all the colours of the rainbow. The moss is made of sponge, soft and deliciously squishy to the touch. I can tear the sponge, but the flowers? No. These are delicate, and crisp - one slip and they are gone forever, turned to dust. Ensuring they are long enough to fill the bottle, but no so tall as to be obscured where the bottle curves... snip, snip. Now, they are perfect.

The paper flowers stand proudly on wire stems, so fine they fit through a needle's eye. But, they are no match for these rainbow blades; silver slivers litter the desk as I press these flowers into place.

I spend four days hand sculpting mushrooms: amanita, oyster, morels, mycena that glow in the dark. These are precious, oven baked, double glazed. They lose some beauty, hidden behind a wall of glass, but here they are safe. Untouched, eternal. I always make their bodies too long, but that's okay. They give way like marshmallow beneath the shears and lean with a contented sigh against the walls of their new home.

A sprinkle of glitter here and there, polymer grasses for garnish and presto! A graceful balance between true botanical beauty, and the whimsical nature of my inner world; where fantasy meets reality, just for a moment.

The joy of capturing a dream is beyond measure, for me. Cheerfully, I watch the sky shifting colours as I weave the ethereal into life. It is a slow but soothing way to pass the time, and to see others' faces light up when they select their favourite as a gift is an honour.

Three dimensional collages, where every angle is a new perspective. This is my magic, my art, my craft... and no two are the same.