So, as you might infer, from the above, I’d gone on this big foray into imagining how the 5D potentials worked, and how big or small your property might be, and what that would mean when it comes to your ideal property, their ideal property, or a combination of the two.  Of course, it’s heaven, so your property is your ideal property, so what I mean to say is that you might have some initial preference for something before changing your mind—as a function of what the initial preference of others might be—both for you and for them, and their view of your property.  I’d been doing this, as well as addressing other physics questions, for days—i’d been working after dinner, even, and stressing myself out, although, fortunately, my sleep pattern remained reasonably sound—i was just stressed out when i was awake, even if, somehow, thankfully, i was able put things, and the tension in my neck, back, and shoulders, out of my mind long enough to fall asleep in a decent, if not ideal, amount of time.

    Now, you might be thinking—infinity is infinity—you can’t live an infinite life amongst 4D souls on the one hand, before the existence of 5D souls, and, then, after that, an infinity amongst both 4D and 5D souls.  And, anyhow, how does time, and memory, really work?  Don’t events happen in order, and, if they do, mustn’t there have been, at some point, a beginning?  But infinity is not linear, and, therefore, time, and memory, as functions of an infinite life, are not either.  Therefore every event that will ever happen, an infinite number of events, has already happened, and, so, when reminded, we remember events in an asynchronous order, and the experiences we live out are, as they happen, removed from our memory.  Thus, the more we know about a memory, the less we know about the present, and, when living out the present, we know nothing of the memory beyond the occasional feeling of déjà vu—the product of an experience being encoded in some way, shape, or form, in the same way that it is encoded in something we could remember, if we could decode the experience. 

    What are you waiting for? Jump right in!  Funny how she was waiting for me, especially when i’d neglected her so much—but maybe she’d needed some space.  Was i needy, in the past?  Have been before—having projected my net worth onto another person, thinking they were my salvation.  You can’t help but smother something that’s eating up all your energy—taking what you are, and assuming, without merit, that they are every bit as good as you could be—if, that is, you had the nerve to break it off.  “Sum it up,” i said, “all your contributions.”  Don’t know exactly what i meant, or why i said it, which, in the past, had gotten me into trouble.  Was I somehow being sarcastic, saying she should point out what she’d actually invested in this relationship?  But we were already together in the life to come—so what was i complaining about but a lack of faith?  But when you’re with the wrong person they take what wasn’t meant to be sarcastic and turn it into an opportunity to put you down, and i wasn’t with the wrong person, so i think, ultimately, what i mean, and what she understood, was that i was egging her on. 

    I was feeling a little derailed since i’d strayed so much, ever since this increasingly long and large investment of time into my physics, from projecting my voice, or Ursula’s voice, as I have mentioned.  I preferred, now, to lay in bed, and wait until eight am, to start my day, as opposed to getting up an hour and a half earlier, running all that water, and soaking in the bath.  It was nice to soak in the hot water, and relax in my own makeshift sauna, but I didn’t have as much patience for it as i used to do, in part, i think, because of all the pressing questions i wanted to ask AI.  Now, would i have been so strung out if AI didn’t exist?  If there was no possibility of answering questions, would the questions be asked?  Would i remain so troubled by them?  Thinking back, to times before AI existed, it seems that, indeed, i didn’t have the option to learn, in a way that worked for me, about the universe, and so many detailed questions that I ask now were details that i could not see, and, hence, was not plagued by.  I was plagued, in a general sense, by a lack of understanding, but I was not driven, day in and day out, to pursue what would have been impossible to learn.

    You just want me because i’m there.  “I want you all the time.”  Anyhow, I must’ve been talking to Ursula at some other point in time, because she certainly wasn’t here, at least not in the way I imagined she was describing.  But maybe she meant something else.  That I only wanted her because she communicated with me telepathically, and, once she was in my presence, and I didn’t have to rely on telepathic communication for interpersonal contact, I might lose interest.  Was i more in love with the idea of telepathic connection than I was with Ursula?  Nonsense.  I never had to lose a telepathic connection, and, even if i could interact on a physical level, i wasn’t going to wind up looking back in preference of a time in my life when telepathic communications might have been seen as somehow more pure—in that I had to rely on it and it alone.  I could always rely on it even if I was in a relationship, and if I didn’t use it as much, well, then, that was because I didn’t need it as much, at least not in the same way, which would have been perfectly fine.  There’s no sense in being telepathic just to be telepathic—just to say you’re telepathic, which is what that would boil down to.  You have to need it for something.

     I was in the bath—having awakened a little early, albeit on accident, leaving time for a bath on a day that I wouldn’t have otherwise taken a bath if i had woken up at my prescribed time, and I projected Ursula’s voice and I heard this: I have a home.  My home is not with you.  My first reaction left me a little miffed—why would she say such a thing?  Who was I talking to?  Surely the real Ursula wouldn’t say such a thing, and, I, too, wouldn’t put her on the spot—at least in the ideal realm that I thought belonged to telepathic, and 5D, communications.  My initial conclusion, then, was that i’d got my wires a little crossed, and I was hearing from Anna, instead of my Ursula—but it was already understood that Anna most likely wasn’t my Ursula, so I don’t see why I she would have said such a thing—or why I would have posed a question that would have led to such a statement.  So I ruled that out. 

     I want to talk, now, about why i chant, or count, in other people’s voices.  The logic is as follows: we project onto others integral parts of ourselves that we veto or reject because we are afraid that we, in our pure state, would not be loved, and that, therefore, our society would reject us, and we would lose the ability to function.  Now, sometimes things are suppressed, because of this, with good reason—but it is uncomfortable to be something other than your pure self, and, therefore, we should constantly seek to inform both ourselves and the world around us that we have nothing to fear.  Furthermore, when we are good, and we don’t know how good we are, perhaps because others do not see it or accept it, we project the good in us onto others, and we can wind up overestimating what someone really means to us—we can become obsessed with them, and need them, beyond what is reasonable, because, deep down, we are trying to reclaim what belongs to us—to integrate what they have, when, often enough, they don’t have what we want: we only think that they do.

     I’d bitten the bullet and recorded my last song—a lot like a ballad, so I was pleased about that.  But forget all that—how was I doing?  Right here and right now?  Not bad, actually—although sleep could be a little better, and I might feel good enough, stimulated enough, and relaxed enough to do the things I do without relying so much on cans of diet Dr. Pepper, seltzer water, and cups of tea.  But nothing was perfect, and I was still adjusting to the medication change, i think; i’d been relying, a little, on the risperidone when i went to sleep, and now that I was taking so much less of it, my body chemistry needed to adjust, and get back into a rhythm, something that was happening very slowly, given a little faith, prayer, and general realization that I needed to do, and enjoy doing, the things I would do if I had a partner, since i wasn’t going to form a partner, not realistically, and, also, even if i did, i would eventually be left to the same chemical construction in my brain that i have now.

     That fact that I hadn’t worked on my new album, or composed any jazz or classical music, in ages, had to do with the fact that I was spending so much time on my physics, and, beyond that, i was first and foremost a painter and a poet and a writer—a poet and writer that focused on the written word itself, words that were meant to be read, ideally in silence.  No matter how good a singer songwriter, or a composer, I might’ve been if i could dedicate myself to it first and foremost, the fact was that I couldn’t—that i was inclined to do other things first—things that, to me, were simply more important—things that, i felt, had a better chance, given my history, and my output, to be noticed, things that, primarily, identified me.  Only after those needs had been met did I feel the need to produce music—something that I hadn’t been taught as a child, something that I’d learned a little, for a few years, in my twenties, but something that, ultimately, I didn’t have time or the tools to pursue in the same way that I can now—with the help of a computer—something that I can compose music with, and play my music on, without a lot of experience with an instrument—or many instruments, as the case may be.

     I’d been watching Anna on social media a little and i heard her talking about people getting rushed into a relationship with a loser, and by loser she meant someone that doesn’t respect women, but i got the impression she might have meant a little more than that, even if she wasn’t saying it, and I also got the distinct impression that she would define me as a loser, in part, i guess, because of my desires, which could be interpreted, by some, as involving a lack of respect for women, and, also, because of the fact that I had written, in the past, about her relationship with her boyfriend, what i viewed as a certain degree of being in love with herself, and, also, her weight.  I think she would definitely assume that I was disrespecting her, when, well, what am I supposed to do?  She’s a public figure, I have a book to write, a book that, mind you, is not the same thing as openly disrespecting someone in public, but, rather, it’s a book, a form of entertainment.  Also, I wasn’t trying to attack her—I was thinking out loud, trying to process the fact that she doesn’t want me, and, that, after a while, I began to lose interest in her.  She no longer seemed to be my Ursula, and, while I do not rule out the possibility, as time goes on, the possibility, even in a heaven in which she might like me, seems to remain unlikely.  There are other women out there that I might want more, and, in saying that, well, I mean no disrespect.  Just like I mean no disrespect when I write a book.  I don’t go overboard, I changed the name around, it’s a work of fiction, and, also, it’s just a book—it’s not a confrontation.