Dec 11th 2019

It’s been quite a while since I have written and posted my journal. Today I want to narrate a significant dream that I had. In the dream, I am trying to escape from my father and he sends thugs to catch me and they finally get a rope on me. Is it a problem of my conscious self—the ego, trying to adjust with authorities in the outer world. I don’t know. I really don’t know why my dead father wants to chase me. Is my dead father a God in disguise? Why I can’t I choose the life I want to live. Yes, I have only one life and I want to live it to the fullest. Being with Christ is a paradox—you are free and you are bound. Is Christ the- paradox, the authority figure wanting to subdue my life’s desires? I don’t know.
I dream of travelling to Bali an exotic island in Indonesia and also to the Philippines. I don’t have moolah to accomplish my heart’s desire. I want to travel, make love to the many women in my life and write all about my experiences. I have the culture of an aesthete. Life should be an experience of art. May the soul be a grandeur of experience. May the soul become with cathartic experiences I dream of smoking clove cigarettes and having grilled fish and duck roast of Indonesia. My heart and soul lives with the islands of Indonesia and the Philippines.


I and my wife went to the ATM counter and there was no cash in it. The officer at the bank said that she will put money in it. Watching her put the money bundle in a large bag, I got the temptation of running and snatching the bag from her. I almost got to doing it. Then with two thoughts in my mind I refrained from doing it. I don’t want to have any trouble with the law. I buried the temptation in the grave.


My skull and
My brains ….
My soul
My bruised
In laminations
Of an
Sanity is
Leaving me…
Bad Luck
Me as a
Beast from
The underworld …
I am torn and
Like broken
Pieces of glass…
I sing a
For my sad soul……

Nov 28 2019

Nothing much happened to me. Life went on like a boring breeze. My sleep has become better and I have cut down on cigarettes. I listened to a Facebook video by Joyce Carol Oates on the art of writing. Though very short, it was very interesting. A writer has to think and feel all the unsaid—the inner consciousness of the mind. A writer’s consciousness is very special. A writer is a person who is very sensitive. When overcome with feeling, when in the emotional cauldron of the mind, the first steps of planting the writing begins.
I had a strange dream. In it I was having intercourse with my wife. It’s not something to wonder about as my sex life is rather starved. Yes Freud is right; dreams are wish-fulfillment of desires.


Reddy is an upper caste name for a person from Hyderabad. This Reddy I encountered was a recruitment agent and he was recruiting teachers to Maldives. He sent me an invitation letter to attend the face to face interview. When I asked him if there are charges: he said yes: ‘one month’s salary and 18% taxes’. I felt sad and staggered. Isn’t he a cheat making money by doing nothing? Are all Reddys like him? I don’t know.