WEIRD ALIEN TELEPATHY
EPISODE # (INTENTIONALLY LEFT MYSTERIOUS)
Sorry if this evening’s omnicast isn’t exactly what you were expecting MECHA MESSIAH fans! For that you’ll just have to wait for the next installment of that incomprehensibling non-narrative.
No, what you’re about to witness is something entirely different. Call it a detour, a side quest for extra EXP, an experiment if you will, or just the kind of desperate last-minute save you make when you’re supposed to be on holiday but THE EDITOR is knocking on the back of your subconscious like a repo-bot with a deadline.
Yes, that’s right folks, this is D’Wizard!’s last minute emergency day after Blue Boxing Day omnicast for Friday, December 27th, 2024.
And it begins where all good things begin: with me, last night, inside a dream too strange to remember and too vivid to forget.
The dream was already happening when I arrived…
You were there—of course you were—but not you in the way you think of yourself. No arms, no legs, no boundaries. You existed only as a bubble of awareness drifting on a sea of telepathic noise. The first thing you noticed was the sound of colors, crackling ultramarines and shrieking crimsons that weren’t colors at all, just ideas pretending to be pigments. Everything hummed with the sensation of other minds—alien thoughts braided together like the sprawling root systems of some unthinkable galactic fungus.
A towering entity loomed nearby, or maybe it was far away. Spatial sense was useless here. Its form was a collection of oscillating shapes—a prism becoming a sphere becoming a spiral becoming something your waking brain couldn’t parse. When it communicated, it wasn’t with words. It was impressions, as if it was dragging entire constellations of meaning out of the void and hurling them into your consciousness.
“TO TRANSLATE THIS IS TO FAIL YOU, AND YET YOU MUST UNDERSTAND.”
You didn’t hear it say this. You were it saying this. It was like standing inside the middle of a metaphor while it was being constructed. Somewhere in the distance—or perhaps the near—a chorus of smaller entities chimed in, their collective telepathic signature spiraling like a nautilus shell:
“THIS ONE DREAMS OF PURPOSE. IT DOES NOT YET KNOW ITS PURPOSE IS DREAMING.”
You tried to respond, to explain you were not dreaming, not here, but the moment you formulated the thought, the entities’ attention snapped toward you like a trillion unblinking eyes. Your awareness bubbled with static as they plunged their focus into the core of your being. They rifled through your fears and longings like intergalactic librarians searching for a misplaced tome. You felt your identity stretch thin, like a balloon overstuffed with alien whispers.
Then, the WORM-STAR arrived.
It wasn’t a star, and it wasn’t a worm. It was the absence of those things—an anti-object coiled tightly into the mental spaces you didn’t know existed. Its presence didn’t radiate light or heat but memory. As it moved, flashes of forgotten moments played out in reverse: a birthday party rewound into silence, a laugh collapsing into its first breath, a hand unclasping another hand before it was even extended. The Worm-Star nested inside you, and its thoughts brushed against yours like cold, wet silk.
“IT DREAMS OF MANY THINGS. BUT DOES IT DREAM OF US?”
“DOES IT DREAM OF ITSELF?”
They were speaking to the dream of you, not the actual you. You understood this because they slowly inserted the understanding into your mind like a live wire.
The dream-you (a thing so alien it barely resembled who you thought you were) vibrated with their questions until it burst open, spilling impossible answers across the telepathic sea. These answers became creatures—long-limbed silhouettes with bodies made of refracted starlight and faces shaped like hieroglyphs.
The creatures sang. Their voices weren’t music but geometry: sharp-edged triangles of noise, fractal spirals of rhythm, endless polyhedral beats. The song wove its way into your thoughts, reconfiguring the way you understood the universe.
Suddenly, the boundaries of the dream rippled and broke. You saw it all at once—yourself, the aliens, the sea, the void—and beyond that, the Editor. Yes, THE EDITOR, eternal arbiter of unfinished ideas and half-formed stories, appeared like a black-gloved hand reaching into the astral plane. It plucked you from the dream with the same casual authority one might use to delete a typo.
And now here you are, in this moment. No more Worm-Star. No more dream-entities slicing your identity into manageable chunks. Just you, sitting in front of the omnicast stream as the emergency episode wraps up with this:
The entities, the telepathic sea, and the surreal narrative you’re still trying to process—they never left. They’re still out there, waiting for you to dream again, waiting for all of us to slip back into the realm where thoughts are more real than flesh and ideas are more dangerous than bullets.
WEIRD ALIEN TELEPATHY isn’t just a dream. It’s a signal, a reminder that even when we rest, we’re still building worlds in the depths of our collective consciousness. So maybe tonight, when you drift off to sleep, you’ll find yourself back there—an untethered awareness among the braided minds of alien entities. Maybe you’ll become the dream they’re waiting for.
NEVER THE END…
Happy mid-holiday hump from D’Wizard! a.k.a. THE EDITOR, who is now presumably satisfied.
Don’t forget: the doors of the Blue Box are always open!
MECHA MESSIAH will return on schedule January 3rd, 2025 with EPISODE #000056 : SALTY PETER & THE WOLF@WALLSTREET
Probably.
Omnicast complete.
Sweat dreams everyone!