Draft from a Diary

Inside Fantasy

I can believe … sometimes.

Whenever I visit my special place and stare upon the stars at night that so deranged depict a face of wonderful wonder. This face makes me a man that believe.

I can see … sometimes.

Patterns that come to mind which projects a reality of redemptive necessity when the need for belief is needing to be seen. Sometimes I need glasses. And sometimes my sight pierce right through.

I can be … sometimes.

Loneliness never lies to the face of the distanced spectator beginning an observation of the human animal and its conduct of behavior. The animal still hiding in the foggy cave.

I can know … sometimes.

Wrecked and wicked believers know when their truthful stun hits them in circumstances that can not be anything else than strange. The description of my special place that lies beyond any border of the hiding human.

I am … always.

The searching man with a valuable possession (and diverse progression) of belief and knowledge of the otherly world where my wonderful stars depict the face of light that takes the trip to visit my eyes. Sometimes its the other way around.

A peace of mind


A night in the clear dark Strife, a walk around town with thoughts straped to Life.

Snow and frost – time is lost. Obliviate the past and that which is fast.

I walk in the present with a sense of adolescence.

Shadows I cast down the lonesome road when my story is about to unfold.

The game is changing near to the second as my watch has stopped to tell the Truth.

I’m still a kid in this magnificent World, I’m curled in a transparent glass bird that dances in the wind.

I’m still a kid with a mind of wonder and fantasy in heart.

The churches bell sings loudly to the religious sky. I approach with my steady feet and happily I walk by.

I know I’m still a child but coming to age is an oath my body promised to make.

This transparency is the real optical illusion because my bird flies around in the world of Fusion.

My bird has beautiful wings and an amazing song it sings, it clings to me and I know it’s mine.

We fly above ground and leave, no longer earth-bound but relief.

I feel free, indispensable, a light feather of love is what I always was.

Free and flying with forces unknown to me. Now I know something, I’m a kid with a magic bird, we’re born together in a song that needs to be heard.

A peace of mind

Dream Journal: the second of when ever ..

In a massive urban and hightech city I find myself standing in a cue – for what I do not know. The only thing I know is that I’m surrounded by people who seems anxious and focused and highly occupied about standing in line. I feel a bit lonely. There’s no one to talk to.

The next thing I’m aware of is a weird and strange and enormous ‘living’ black clump flying through the air and lands not far from where I’m standing. Almost as an asteriod shooting through the night sky. This living black thing lands behind some tall skyscrapers and only a few seconds has past when hysteria hits the masses. Chaos. I’m standing and looking towards where this weird thing landed and now it’s even taller than the buildings.

First I need to explain this living black thing as I saw it. It was a very mystic substance, both liquid and solid. It possessed the ability to split it self into infinite pieces and fly in different directions independent of each other. The totality of the substance controlled every bit even when it was split. It wasn’t limited by physical laws. I had the idea very present when I looked at it that this substance has a will of its own.

Back to the dream. I was under the impression that the current world I was in was undergoing a ‘sabotage’ by a major and powerful force that no one would be able to stop. (I’m still not sure if this substance was an evil character.) The people around me perceived it as evil or thats how I interpreted their hysteria. Although I had more of a feeling of respect and curiosity toward the ‘living’ black. I wasn’t afraid of what this substance would do to me, but I felt forced to run away from it. The cue I was in made me leave the sight of it. Almost as if the collective controlled where I was supposed to go and do and act. The collective mass of people.

The next thing that happens is that I finally get away from this collectivity and on my own. I’m running away. The indoctrinated fear from the mass of the people has got the better of me. I run towards a passage between two tall buildings that forms an alley-way (in a New York sense) and just seconds before I enter I feel a strange sensation under my right eye. I understand that something of the living black substance has hit me, and it begins to sink through my skin and becomes me. This is where I wake up.

A peace of mind, Draft from a Diary

A Dreamy Knight

The moonlight shines my dream awake, while an evenings cold sends alarming mistakes. A lonely road is painted in darkness and snow, where a man is standing in the moonlights glow. He knows the future of this dream – that that’s destined to gleam – how the necessity of thought is out of the dreamers plot.

Changes will happen in the evolving night, as the man follows the path of glowing light. He meets, as destined, a confused little knight, who asks for help and his troubling mind. They talk for what seems long, suddenly arriving at a mountain pond. The dark has lifted, has now shifted, into an honest light.

Surrounded by clouds and massive rock, they find a healing silence in the dreamlike fog. The pond reflects something hidden indeed, our knights confusion is thrown in water as seed. Icy waves spreads the confusions roots and up is growing a creature of unwilling proofs.

Our dreaming knight is battled by the monsters scary thoughts. He cannot fight its cruelty, he must admit to see a nightmare of sorts. The dreamers guide is gone, left him to fight, left him to find his strength in mind. The monster shows him the construct of death, an exile forever in darkness he’s left.

He must not fail, he must not fall in a terrible wail. He shouts as high he can, “I will show you evil monster, what death has stored for you instead. Your life is soon to end, and darkness will eat you dead!” The knight, he ran in the pond as plan, and dived into the cold, for he would kill it at the mold.

Swimming in darkness and lungs filled with air, icy cold and hellish, he does not care. Something strange possesses the waters floor, he thought to see the monster’s claw, but nothing, only a curios little door. It opens at his will, now the pond is running low, and as the water quickly disappear, the hideous creature is no more here. 

Knightly he feels, rightly he deals, conquered a monster now gone at his feet. He stand in the no-more pond, and further away stand a guide looking fond. The knight knows nothing of his presence, but he hears a shouting sentence “I knew you’d defeat that monster my good man! Come here, and let me give you my hand!” The knight answers not with talk, he runs, and happy as he does.

“Why did you leave me?” is the knights talking response, and smiling the guide cleverly says “Because you needed it! Defeat of a monster as evil as that, will drive you toward good not mad! Uncertainty, skepticism and doubt has now vaporized into clouds. They will always hang above your head, but you killed the monster dead, the monster who showed you death. These feelings are apart of you, and that is valuable to hear, because only you can feed them fear!” 

“Bravery of a knight you are! Wake up to face the monster that’s lurking, the one that fight to hide the good in life, the one that’s real and in your head. You killed something tonight, but evil will never be dead, but everyday you must fight as the rightful knight!”   

A peace of mind, Draft from a Diary

Possessions of clear windows

Stream my mind along these lines while nothing is lost and power comes forth.

Letters to the soul is written by matter that contains a meaning for purposely diluting forrests to gold. Care to the sane and feed the insane. Grow with the beast in a tale of wonder, mysteriously awaits You a colorful trip. Gather the goods and away with the pain. Hundreds even thousand of stimuli enters at a time, so fast even the bugger gets a chance. No, not at all do the visual tricks and games play – they start in about two, three minutes. 

Be generous to the facts. Take it lightly and mildly, and if you dare then wildly. Only think and walk and stroll in thought. Let the spirit of philosophy and the soul of science blow you away on a pleasant cruise. Hope the day brings weather to hope for. Wish for the stars – belief in a moon – how strange when they appear in dreams, they fly around as particles, even the moon desolves into a Great black hole. A black mass, a liquidly substance of a not knowing stuff. A swallowing thing can sometimes burp up the craziest air with sense of destruction and despair.

In the brinck of the Universe where a planet called Earth floats around in euforia of the burping black hole. The planet lives in a bubble closed pit and thus also in accordance with the poluting black air. Contrary to the point and relevant to the case has always been a tempting pleasure for the simple mind. Just as relavance to the contrary for the logical mind.

The thought is capable of reaching a state in absolut knowledge, when it shares and dips into the timeless notion that bring about clarity in mind.

A peace of mind, Dark Philosophy

Informational Trancendence

The mushroom speaks but who cares to listen?

Where it is found who searches the ground?

People deep asleep for all eternity?

Information it seems has the property,

to be in states of two while unifying too.

One sees the externally, the other speaks for “quality”

Dualistic quality information reveal

It’s nature – A priori of the ‘Greater’

Awaken to the song, Existence!

Time and Space and Qualia depend,

that Information forms the essentially,

Of all and everything metaphysically.

A pattern is forming in a structure binding together,

now in position to judge, as a metaphysical judge:

The underpinnings of Nature – the all-depending Information!

  The mushroom speaks because it needs to be listened!

The mushroom sings to inform, awaken in sleep and so in thought!

Follow the in-between, the aesthetic of it All!

A peace of mind, Archetypal feelings

Archetypal Feelings: Madness

My vision plays a trick; it turns the outside world hanging upside down. It conforms the stuff into something it’s not – and then it tries to tell me it’s the truth.

Sometimes I believe my vision when it tricks me, but a strange thing inside me makes these “vision tricks” have a rather ‘maddening’ character. This strange force compells me to think: I am different. I have a power in my sight no one else has, and this power shows me a facet or a fragment of something “otherly” – a side of Human Reality far from ordinary Men.

A part of me is an ordinary man. It divides me. A conflict between irrational and rational, supernatural and natural, and the question of insanity and madness.

When I follow the steps of my inner-voice I find a pleasent feeling, one of belonging, as I see the Madness in front of me. It greets me and shows – with superb understanding of the element of suprise – a daring trick to a newcomer in the boarders of Unsanity. The trick is painted in the sand of my new home land. A divided circle that’s still intact, a line in the middle seperates – Madness says – insanity and sanity. The line in the middle represents where I am. The place they call Unsanity. A bit of both – but with the strenght to be mad enough to be there.