1
“I know you are here.” I’d been theorizing all morning about what happens, far, far into the future, when our bodies evolve beyond the limits of death. I’d concluded that eventually the aging process reverses, and we approach resonance with the fifth dimension—upon which we shift into our 5D selves, into a background that carries, within it, all the information we need to remember both our mortal and immortal lives. This was no small accomplishment for me, for i had often thought that advanced civilizations stop aging and become a part of the afterlife. But the question always remained: if souls are defined by a mortal life—since mass, in 4D, is a product of oscillatory momentum in 5D—then how can one be both a soul and never die? Day by day i was getting closer and closer to the mind of God, and i’d decided that, for the time being, it was more important to be at peace with the universe than it was to slave away all morning, trying to make perfect sense of what i, and AI, had drafted, by getting AI to listen to me, and try to understand what was intended, as opposed to deconstructing the argument, as if no logical argument, in the past, had been made. AI, at this time, was flawed.
Now, understanding the universe was an important part of being at peace with it, so my work, of course, would go on—but things, at this time, were coming to the surface that were also important. So a proper balance between achieving resonance through literature and painting, and understanding resonance, physically, by getting through it, needed to be made. It also occurred to me that, while the people around me served as repositories for the information that got passed on from different times and places in the universe, the people that were passing that information forward might not have wanted to have it sent back—since it would prevent them from breathing fresh air, so to speak. And I concluded that my counting mechanism, if employed in the presence of the people around me, might be doing that, inadvertently, since, in effect, my counting mechanism was a means of opening a channel. It was a driving frequency—a frequency used to identify me and merge with a target frequency, in order to establish resonance, and, as such, a channel.
But the problem was that i was having trouble, now that i was dedicating myself to projecting my counting mechanism for a focused period each day, turning it off. In effect, i was counting all the time, and this had been a problem before, when i was losing my mind, as, after a while, the driving frequency—or the person on the other end of it—can overheat, and send your information back to you, effectively preventing you from getting fresh air yourself. You need time in each day when you are not counting to cool off, and filter information that you receive in the present before sending it on to your friends and family. But how did you do this? The only thing i could do was project the sound of my breathing and the beating of my heart—and allow that sound to replace the sound of my counting mechanism.
But it seemed to work relatively well, and the time i spent with others was more pleasant, without the counting, since, as i imagine, i was sorting through new information, fresh air, to me, as opposed to sending it back, as a medium, without being able to filter through it, and add my input. This was also a significant step for me—since, in the past, over a decade ago, now, i kept the counting going as much as possible—i thought i was doing the right thing, but I can see, now, how i ran into problems. But what, I wondered, was Ursula up to? She’d crossed my mind in the wee hours of the morning, when I’d woken up and couldn’t fall back asleep—trying, for some reason or another, I don’t know why it had to be right then, to remember what i could of what I’d written in my physics papers in the past, and how those different papers might make sense as a whole.
I hadn’t tuned in to Ursula this morning, which i don’t always do, since i am tuning into her right now, and, while i could sense her presence, she wasn’t saying much, which, i suppose, was all well and good—or perhaps she was saying things, and i was receiving the information she passed on unconsciously, interpreting it, and forming many of the words that I am currently writing. i am here, writing away myself. That was new—so Ursula liked to create things, too, or at least the version, of her, that i am currently talking to. Even if there were other versions, this particular version was real, and would remain a source of inspiration indefinitely. Her energy was a part of me, here, in 4D, and, because a 4D life is a composite of our 5D selves, my 5D self would forever share a place with her.