Jyothy Sreedhar

First thoughts about a dream

A dream wakes me up.


It oozes out the last drop

from the dreams that are said to be hidden.

Apart from the devotional songs from a temple near

I hear the silence.

And the silence is much loud that

it pierces my delicate eardrum.

In this sleepless waking hour

the dream gets constructed


then reconstructed

and reconstructed.

Absence of centre exists.

Derridas and Freuds at work.

They confuse each other

I become their subject.

The silence is still much aloud that

I cant concentrate.

I want to turn off its volume.

Why did I see it?

Silence. Concentration lost.

Songs wither.

What say my mind?

Ha! Is there something called ‘mind’?

Don’t say anything.

Brain gets offended for the dream.

I get paralysed.

My thoughts doze off.

I sleep…

violently… silently.