A dream is a series of ides, thoughts, emotions and images that occur involuntarily when we're asleep. It has not been possible to prove why we dream but I'm sure as hell fascinated by it.


I think that it's absolutely amazing the way my brain can put together faces, names, images and make stories about it. Sometimes you can even tell why you dreamed what you dreamed, due to recent events that occurred or people you've met.


I see my dreams as myself living in another dimension, or a parallel universe. I live a completely different life where everything is possible, even flying (a skill I'm yet to learn).

I love how dreams sometimes are so realistic you're wondering where you are when you're waking up. And sometimes they're so unrealistic it's ridiculous. They're both just as fun though. I'm always trying my very best to remember my dreams when I wake up, I also try to challenge myself - see if I'm able to do certain things in my dreams. Try to look at your own hand for example. I bet it'll take most people a while before that happens.


As you all know, dreaming isn't always pleasant. From time to time we all have bad dreams, but even these fascinate me. Nightmares now are so different from when I was little. Nightmares doesn't always have to be about getting chased or murdered, but simply about things you fear or things that makes you uneasy and uncomfortable. Those things change with time.


The absolute worst thing I've ever experienced is a thing we've always referred to as "delirium". Definition: an acutely disturbed state of mind characterized by restlessness, illusions, and incoherence, occurring in intoxication, fever, and other disorders. For me it was always the fever, about 40°C or so, that triggered it.

For someone that has never experienced it I always explain it as follows:

Imagine falling asleep in distress, you feel like Death himself, sweating, freezing and you're just uneasy. Once asleep you have a nightmare, something that makes you incredibly uncortfable and once the dream gets intense enough for you to wake up, you don't fully wake up. You're awake, but you're still dreaming at the same time. You're stuck in the nightmare and it follows you even when you're awake.

It's like half of your brain is awake and the other one isn't. The nightmare becomes a scary hallucination which is extremely difficult to break out of.


The first time I experienced this I was 4 years old and I was very sick. I can't remember the dream and waking up, but once awake I watched my father's head and hand split in two right in front of me. I also saw how the hall outside the bedroom door was flooded and huge crocodiles just waiting for someone to walk past them.

This was incredibly scary for a 4-year-old and I bet it was just as scary for my father and brother.


This has happened to me a couple of times throughout the years but the "motives" in the nightmares changed. Another time I remember very well was me being at my mother's and we had pulled the mattress out in the sitting room to watch TV while I was sick. I had fallen asleep and suddenly woke up, opened my eyes and the first thing I saw on the TV was a scary looking man making a weird noise. All of a sudden that same man is standing outside the glass doors looking at me. He's getting louder and louder and he's getting ever so closely and he was always standing behind me instead of where I could see him.

After a few short minutes (if even that) he was standing right behind me, touching my shoulder slightly, screaming into my ear.

I realised that my mother wasn't home, she was out walking the dog. I freaked out so much that I went out the door and I screamed for help. One of our neighbours who was out smoking came to my rescue and stayed with me until I snapped out of it and my mother came back.

I really hope my mother explained the situation to that poor woman.


I, 24 years of age, am still terrified of getting a high fever and for this to happen again. I don't wish it on anyone, I hope that no one will ever experience anything like it. It's truly terrifying.

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It’s said that 6 out of 10 people can see or hear deceased loved ones. For most it’d be in form of hallucinations. You’d see your loved one in a familiar place, humming a familiar melody, while in fact the person isn’t there at all.

I’ve never experienced any of those so-called hallucinations, but I’ve experienced something I think we all have experienced at least once. You know when you’re in town running errands or minding your own business and suddenly you see a familiar face across the street? It’s only when you get closer that you realise it wasn’t the person you thought it was, it was a stranger.

This happens to me quite often and I’ve always been a bit freaked out about it, because 9 out of 10 times when this has happened to me, I’ve later seen the person I was thinking about. It doesn’t matter if it’s been a person likely for me to see in that situation or not.

The remaining 1 out of 10 times I think I see you, even though I know that you’re no longer with us. In fact, you haven’t been for over 10 years. Since this is something that has happened to me for so long (I even call it an ability sometimes, a sixth sense) I still expect to see you later, but I never do. It’s weird that I know that I’ll never see you again, yet I’m still waiting for it to happen.


I’m probably not alone in admitting that I don’t think about you every day anymore. So maybe this is a way for you to remind me of you, to give me a lovely nostalgia trip down memory lane. Cause to be honest, that’s all it is nowadays. Even though it hurts to think about that day, 22nd of November 2007, thinking about you now just makes me smile. You’re still able to make me happy and your laugh echo in my head sometimes.

You were way too young to be pulled out of this world and I think that I was too young to quite understand it, grasp what has happened. Death is a very difficult thing to understand. Not sure I understand it now either. It’s sad to see the world go on without you but in one way you’ll always be here with us. You’ll always have that special place in our hearts.

Rest in Peace
Tobias “Bob” Wallgren

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I decided to dedicate this post to the subject ALCOHOL, seeing as it's Alcohol Awareness Week this week.

Alcohol (Ethanol) is a psychoactive recreational drug and I think that many of us forget that, the fact that it is a drug that affects our brains and our bodies. It's been used as a social past time for thousands of years throughout the world and it's accepted by most of us.


Alcohol have always had a very high priority in my family. A lot of times it was even prioritised over me and my brother's psychological welfare and it’s always been a somewhat sensitive subject to me. I'd consider alcohol to be the major reason behind most fights I've had with my family and friends.


I have two complete different views on my parent’s alcohol consumption. I only ever spent every second weekend in my father’s place, the rest I was living with my mother. I can’t remember my father drinking on the weekends I spent with him when I was very young. We’d always do things, go places. As we got older though, he and my then stepmother would consume alcohol. There were often fights between them when they were drunk, which is always unpleasant for other people, especially children. I used to dislike it when my father was drinking, it wasn’t unusual that he’d get frustrated and a bit aggressive, but sometimes we had great fun too. It completely depended on his mood.

I think that my father has “calmed down” a lot growing older, at least when I’m around. We have a much better understanding now when I’m older. I don’t mind my father drinking or even drinking together with my father. We get along great and we’ve become a lot better on communicating since when I was younger.


It’s been the complete opposite with my mother, I used to always be OK with her drinking and her having friends over and such. They were funny to hang around with and it didn’t feel like my mother changed too much when she was drunk, she’d just be happier. It’s only as I got a bit older that I understood that she was drinking quite often and that she would prioritise buying alcohol over other things for us kids sometimes. I wasn’t moved too much by it though, I was still happy.

When I was a teenager and had started drinking myself I was often partying with my mother, which I thought was fun. None of my friends were doing that and they all loved hanging around with my mother. We had a lot of fun together. My mother later went to rehab for her drinking and this is where it all changed in my eyes.

After rehab, she stayed sober for a while, but eventually she started drinking again – not as often, but her thoughts on her drinking was now completely changed, which in turn, I think, changed her. I think this is where I really started to fight my mother over alcohol. We’d fight every time she was drinking, or even consider drinking. We still do to this very day.


What makes me so sad about this whole thing is that my mother sometimes think I don’t love her, which is as wrong as it could get. I love my mother incredibly much, I love my mother when she’s sober, not when she’s drinking. I don’t see her as the same person after she’s been drinking. She’s then no longer my mother to me. I know it sounds very harsh but that’s how I feel about it. I’ve tried to explain this to her, but I haven’t been able to do so without her getting upset, which is understandable, but it’s also something that’s very important for me to say to her.


Growing up with two drinking parents surely has affected both myself and my (older) brother. He decided to stay away from alcohol most of his life, he only recently started drinking. It has also affected how I drink alcohol, I used to be afraid of becoming like them when I got drunk, so I did everything in my power to control that wouldn't happen.

Nothing, alcohol or no alcohol, changes the fact that I love both my parents incredibly much. I wouldn’t want to change them or my childhood for anything in the world. If anything, it made me stronger and more understanding. It made me grow up a bit faster but I’m happy I did. It just made me more secure in myself earlier in life.

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Look inside, on my inside, from my point-of-view. I look different in this light.

I think that it's only fair to start this kind of journey at myself, to use myself as a start point in all of this. But how do I even begin? To describe oneself is extremely difficult but I'm going to try my best.

I notice everything. I hear everything. I remember every word and look. Just because I don't react doesn't mean I didn't hear or see. What I’m an expert at is taking those words to myself, my inside, and repeat them quietly to myself. Some things stay longer than other. Some things have been there for as long as I can remember, some were added recently. Most of the time all this is kept there, inside me. It never makes it out, it never gets to see the light again. Until now, hopefully.

I know I'm not alone in this, but I've always lived my life to rather show strength than my weakness. It's been my number one defence mechanism, my way to survive. What people might not know is that I'm extremely sensitive, very emotional, but I've thought myself to be good at hiding it.

While it's sad that I've kept things, that really hurt me, to myself my entire life rather than talked about them it has helped me to become stronger. I've learned to be stronger by being bad to myself, by not being honest to myself and my emotions. Years of self-destruct has had a healing effect.

I've always tried my best to keep my guard up, try to show myself as tough but I'm afraid that was all an act. That tough kid in school who never cried, never got hurt - she cried when she came home and when she was alone with her own thoughts and emotions. She then put the mask back on, kept the act up.

I've always been my own best friend and my own worst enemy. I always find a way to lead something back to me. I blame myself for a lot of things, sometimes rightfully so, sometimes not. I'm not saying that I've been an angel my entire life. There's been moments in my life of shitty judgement where I've acted out on my feelings and hurt other people along the way. To everyone that I've hurt in my life - I'm truly sorry, you can blame me and be angry with me for that. But believe me, I have beaten myself up over that. I always do.

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It is really difficult to try and remember the very first memory of your existence. I've been trying for a while but I cannot find anything. I sure have memories from when I was a child, but those are memories that I have played in my head over and over again since the event occurred.

It has been proven that our memories, as we remember them, are not always a true representation of the real life event that we once experienced. Our minds is like a .jpeg file being compressed every time we save it. For people who do not understand that reference - what I'm trying to say is that our memories gets compressed (and even edited) every time we think back on them.

Another relatable metaphor would be the game called 'Chinese whispers'/'Telephone'. If you have ever played this game you know what I'm referring to. The original message gets edited, compressed or ends up a complete different one once it reach the last person in the circle (in our case our minds).

Sometimes it goes so far that 'our memories' aren't OUR memories at all. They're someone else's edited and compressed memories imprinted on you.

With the above said, I'd like for you all to keep this in mind when I tell you about my memories. The thoughts and emotions from my past events are mine completely and no one else can take them away from me. However, the details of actual events could have been perceived completely different by other parties and everyone might not agree with said storytelling.

Let us begin.

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