"You are troubled by your own greatness. It weighs upon you like the weight of all the universe."
It was a voice that seemed to know everything. It was an old voice, and yet cried like a newborn baby. It was laughing lightly, barely a chuckle. If a smirk could make a noise, that's what it was.
"You may choose my form. I would be too complicated to you if you were aware of my totality. A burden of your past. So please, create me in your understanding. Create me within your comprehension."
The voice became distant as I groggily fought it back. I had no time for a philosophical discussion about my greatness, which I happened to know was still insignificant.
"You have more time than you realize."
"WHAT?!" I shot up into a sitting position. I still saw nothing but black. I felt nothing. But there was a vague memory of something, of who I was.
"Please, it will be much easier for you to create me within your comprehension. Make me believable. Become comforted by me. Then we can discuss this issue you have."
I laid back down and died once again.
Go to Part 3.