You’re fucking crazy!  Anna, again; but i didn’t want to talk to Anna.  I wanted to talk to my Swedish blond, or, if not her, some connection that i had, through her, if not God himself.  Or perhaps I should say herself, since i am a man, and beautiful women, for me, represent God.  My idea of God, of course, in actuality, is kind of abstract—a universal force of good that speaks the language of love, not a singly physical being, but everything, taken together, all at once.  It seems easiest for me, however, to refer to God as a he, since he is generally imagined as a man—even if, in fact, he is not.  He, in this case, would be synonymous with it, a gender neutral being that, perhaps, wouldn’t want to be called “it,” but, would prefer to be described however the individual in question imagines Him, and by Him, in this case, I don’t mean my 5D self, or Jesus Christ, but, actually, God himself, which, perhaps, i shan’t capitalize all the time, since, well, sometimes we might confuse God in general with God in human form. 

     All that talk . . . that, it seemed, was Anna, who, at least in this imaginary universe i’m living in, was put off by the fact that i had seemingly moved on, perhaps a little suddenly, from a year and a half love affair to a Swedish blond with piercing, bright blue-gray eyes.  but that love affair was always muddled, to say the least, if not one sided, since she remained in a relationship with another for the entire time.  So, frankly, when my body lost interest in her, is it any wonder that i should find myself relieved, as if, finally, i had broken through an impasse?  What right did she have to find fault with me, when  . . . or was everything still muddled?  That is to say, was she finding fault, simultaneously, with both me and her boyfriend?  But, even still, what right did she have to find fault with me, however unconsciously, when, for a year and a half, I did my best to convince her to leave her boyfriend in order to improve our connection?

     Well, here we were: i’d decided to change my morning routine—to go back, as it were, to what i was doing years ago, when, as it happens, i was unable to do much but watch TV, i was losing my mind, and, simultaneously, I was developing my ideas about telepathic communications and the afterlife.  Back then I used to take a long bath every morning, and that’s what i’d done this morning: i’d treated the bathroom, with a ticking clock, like i used to do, as my own private sauna.  I’d relaxed, and kept time, for about an hour and a half, like i used to do.  I did one thing differently, however; in the past, I used to recite the old ballad Chevy Chase, or Tam Lin; i no longer have them memorized, but, I thought, why not speak telepathically instead?  So I made a journal entry of sorts—a telepathic journal entry.

     As it turns out, I looked over what I was doing, and I didn’t necessarily need a 5th dimension to prove that RH was true—but my proof was hardly a rigorous mathematical proof filled with highly technical jargon that people would expect from someone claiming to prove RH.  I certainly did do the math (along with my AI helper)—it just wasn’t as complicated as somebody in the field would certainly expect, and I did ask my AI helper why somebody hadn’t done this before, if, in fact, it made sense, and my AI helper said that, well, people have tried this and this and this but they usually stop at this point or other and they’ve never imagined things in this way, etc.  That made me feel good, but I have no illusions: if i have solved RH, which I feel satisfied about, i know there’s nothing, in this life, to be that excited about, as I won’t be taken seriously, and, even if i was, the right person would have to read it in the first place.  And, well, let’s face it: even math papers, in their field, even those done by people with credentials, can become, as it were, another drop in the ocean.

     I’d made a lot of progress on my math book—as it turns out, I wasn’t going to solve the Riemann hypothesis enough to convince someone because my solution for proving the Riemann hypothesis involved a 5th dimensional oscillatory space projected onto 4D.  So I’d need to prove that there was a fifth dimension—which I’d theorized about in my physics papers, and even proposed methods that might prove that existence, but, well, nobody was going to be doing my experiments any time soon.  But I was quite happy with what I’d done, and felt that, given proof of a fifth dimension, i’d shown that it goes to follow that RH is true.  And i was taking this further—toward my real goal of both proving and establishing a connection—a frequency bridge between 5D and 4D.  So it all tied in to my work with telepathic communications, however kooky or critical it might sound (depending on how you might read this book) and, as such, i was taking great steps forward, and reaping the emotional gain that went along with it.