Dreamland

Have you ever had a story so vivid play out in your mind only to disappear once you start thinking about it? The story was so clear and masterful that I wanted to write it down, but in that instance, it’s gone… All I remember is that there was a dragon involved, and sort of a eureka feeling, other than that, it might as well never existed.

It wasn’t a dream, however, because I was awake. I had my eyes close, sure, but I was never unconscious, I’m pretty sure. Perhaps I simply touched dreamland rather delw deep into it?

I believe stories are brought to us from another realm, how else do you explain the things we come up with? Why does words appear when I write and how do they somehow become a story, as if it wanted to come into existence from another place? I just simply have to let go and let it exist, use me as a vessel of its creation.

Which I don’t mind, really, but perhaps some of them doesn’t want to be revealed yet, perhaps I saw into something I wasn’t supposed to? I was thrown out because I revealed myself, I made a noise, or in this instance, I had a rational thought, which doesn’t belong in this realm, in dreamland.

Invisible Steps – Poem

Their steps can be heard all over the valley

A thumping noise that makes the ground tally

But only at full moon do they show, for they move in the darkness

Even the ground hides their stroll

Nobody had been hurt by their heavy steps

Nor was the forest in tatters

Its as if they does not exist

Perhaps it is the fantasy of the people in the unknown

For life is simple, imagination is what we’ve grown


© Christopher Stamfors

Senses Lost to Modernity – Poem

If you’ve read my last poem, Boundless mind, this might make more sense to you.


As the mind is boundless,

And anything can become real,

Where do we draw the line between fantasy and reality?

Things that exists in one person’s head might be fantasy to another

But sometimes, fantasy becomes reality

When enough people believe in it.

Reality today is what we can see, touch and smell

And most of all, measure.

Yet, things cease to exist when we no longer believe it,

no longer fear it,

No longer feel it.

Boundless Mind – Poem

Be weary of your mind,

For it is boundless.

Seeing across dimensions

And through time

It cannot distinguish what is real

And what is not

At least, not on its own


I’ve always found that our minds are more capable than we give them credit for, but also less capable than some of us imagine it to be. Our society today was imagined by someone, and I genuinely believe our minds are able to create more than words in a book and pictures in a movie, enough people just have to instigate the change…