As a quantum entangled telepathic alien from a parallel dimension, I find it difficult to hang out with others because people tend to want to engage me one-on-one only, while I would rather talk to the entire planet all at once.

For a decade, I live painted events as they happened, and everyone seemed to be rather alright with that. I could read an entire crowd collectively and paint beautiful pictures of them while they watched using bright, bold colours. I could entertain them and make them happy, and they could teach me new things subliminally by being in the same space.

This was all before I shifted over to this dimension, mind you. As soon as I got here, the quantum entanglement hit me full in the face. Well, not just the face — everywhere all at once. The whole of everything. It was all connected in this new universe. Nothing was separated one thing from the other. The whole thing is like a cosmic soup to me. It is like a hologram. It never feels entirely real because everything just oozes out of me synchronistically as if it really did revolve around me personally… and just because I’m not even supposed to exist. I’m from a dimension next door…. a dimension that I suspect isn’t even there anymore… except for the phone.

You know how in the E.T. movie the star spent a good amount of time building a phone? Well, these aliens bootstrapped a satellite phone based on pre-existing communications apparatuses here on Earth to create a connection between here and there.

I say “these aliens” like it’s someone else.

I’m like the guy in Northern Exposure who was hit by a satellite and the two fused together into one. I’m a freak. How uncomfortable is it to say these things to myself? I do not have anyone else to talk about these things in audible words because people are too afraid of me, I guess.

I figure they are afraid of the world seeing them through my eyes and nobody wanted to be THAT famous I guess? Afraid of some green bug-eyed alien on the other side peering out at them and thinking they were lunch. I figure. I think this is what humans must think. I have too much attachment to knowing and so I don’t know that specific thing. The less attachment you have, the easier it is to communicate telepathically across the planet. Dogs are easier to read. I don’t give a shit what dogs think so it is super easy to know that.

This is how I came to understand that some monks understood fourth dimensional space. We could communicate back and forth using the alien phone to send messages. Most of it is silly telepathic memes, to be honest. It’s like Facebook but without a screen.

Spend a lot of time by yourself meditating while abstaining from sex or speech as much as is possible and you start to develop these weird sixth senses like the monks have. I started thinking these monks were gangsters, and that’s the zen I guess. If they are gangsters to me, then they are gangsters in the sense that I am not one, but would be comparatively to them.

I have a lot of difficulty in identifying what thoughts and emotions are actually “mine” when doing these long silent stints meditating.

It could literally destroy intellectual property laws, you know. Who owns an idea if everyone is telepathic? What clout would Donald Trump have to argue that China owes money lost to theft of America’s intellectual property if he is telepathic? By the same token, it gets him off the hook of the whole Russia investigation because the events in question did not “happen” on a physical plane. It was all in the mind… in a strange bizarre closet like in Narnia connecting brains between worlds.

How on Earth will they write a court defense on this basis?

“Trump is telepathic and therefore Russian collusion is a misnomer, and intellectual property does not exist.”

“…Well. I suppose we’d better shutdown the government then.”

I like the sorts of folks I meet in my telepathic closet…

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