4
I’d been pounding Dr. Pepper and carbonated water and the tip of my tongue was a little burnt. I was trying to stick with non-carbonated bottled green tea—my former drink of choice, before i learned that i could get a mini-rush by drinking soda water rather quickly—i mean in gulps. There was also the possibility that my tongue was burnt by the peppermint tea i’d started drinking around the five o’ clock hour. Either way i didn’t know how wise it would be to open another can of soda. I have to say Ursula was cracking me up—i saw her rallying with the people of Queens and she looked so serious—she was serious—and I could tell she had adrenaline coursing through her veins. This made me happy—although it made me increasingly aware of the fact that we only shared a 5D relationship—and that she was unattainable in this life, if not the next.
you can’t stop me now and it was true—Ursula was on a roll—but you must be wondering: who should get the credit for the work i was doing? Me or Ursula? Because I believed that I was getting ideas from my channel to the future—Ursula was sharing things about the future with me—and, because of that, I must acknowledge this. But it was also possible that Ursula had been reading my work—it was likely that she had been reading my work, and, hence, her ideas came, in part, from me. So i figured we were even—what I wrote was a function of the future and the future was a function of me. It sounds kind of bold when I say it like that, i know. But it’s the only explanation i have for how i’d been having so many telepathic conversations. Someone, from the future and or the other side was communicating with me—and I’d named that person—or one of those people, Ursula.
how do you think you’re going to do this but, “do what?” Was she talking about my rise to power or hers? in short I have faith because, “I’ve vacated the person and the beliefs, of the lack of belief, that made those actions possible.” It was kind of irksome how telepathic communications, at first, anyhow, did everything backwards: everybody wanted to interrogate you because you were in a secret compartment that they didn’t think anybody could see. that’s right “but look down at me,” i insisted—i was such a sucker when a woman stared at me—it didn’t happen often, and, when it did, it was obvious that the woman was trying to sell her brand—not her favor.
i’m over here and i think she meant, in your head so i tried to tune back into the sound of her voice—which, i admit, sounded like middle English—which is basically what I call Navajo speak but there’s more focus on the consonants, and, hence, the information that we, the speaker, were sharing. i was doing pretty good because i was getting some imagery that seemed to acknowledge the work i do, and that, in fact, i’m the man i think i am. That was encouraging—it meant that i didn’t have to do everything entirely based on faith—i had something to back up my faith, which made my faith stronger—just like 4D and 5D existing in resonance with each other. “thanks,” i said—i was sure that Ursula was behind this, and that she was telling me that she looked up to me. If she was trying to get into my pants she was certainly on the right track.
now we can do this and i was like, “like what?” i want to get real and i did, too, but i wasn’t exactly sure what that meant. For example, if you exist in 5D (without resonating in 4D) then you do not project onto 4D and, i wonder, if eternal life is a condition of the fifth dimension, and things tended, because of the geometry of space and the tendency of light to self-organize, then, were you really there? I mean in the afterlife, or the fifth dimension, whatever. If you were an angel and you never lived in 4D, then did that mean that you were a function of our collective imagination? Would that mean that you weren’t real? It was an interesting topic, and my inclination was always to think: “we can never be sure if something is real or not—we can only work towards our reality by resonating with it—by reinforcing it—and, as such, it was our duty to treat all spirits with respect—as if they were moving in from another section of reality.
Writing with Ursula was basically like texting back and forth. now we’re really here and i felt it, too—i’d spoken to her in my middle English voice, or, at least, my interpretation of middle English, and she’d responded. you’re going to have to let that stand and by that i knew she was talking about her boyfriend; and, because i didn’t want Ursula getting frustrated and ruining her career by putting out, I agreed with the lesser of two evils—that she, for now, should stick to what works. And, based on what i’d seen so far—everything was working. i don’t know if i can do better I’d tapped into a private thought, then. There was nothing i could say to that—since she must’ve known that wasn’t the way to get into my pants, which led me to believe that she was experiencing a little doubt after coming down off all the adrenaline—in short, her faith wavered a little.