You chose a ballpoint pen.

A tangible thought  that isn't my own comes out of the abyss and forms bubbles around me: Clever thinking! It says. A little ink in this water-based air is just the kind of smoke-show we need right now. If you pop the end cap off and wave the pen like a magic wand, you can confuse the heck out of the velociworms with a cloud of swirly ink and then eat THEM. After all--who knows when YOUR next meal may be and velociworms are full of antibodies and protein. 

Before I can make a move, something snakes around my left ankle, gripping my skin like superglue. More tendrils wrap around my arms and neck, covering me in a slippery, sticky substance. It appears I have been ensnared by a particularly pesky clump of moon-snot vines, which are to be honest, both smelly and prickly. Moon-snot vines are not in themselves dangerous. But with me stuck to them like a fruit-fly to paper, and the velociworms close at hand, unless a miracle appears, I am most definitely doomed.

I am still trying to untangle myself when the thoughts that aren’t my own swirl around me again.

I was under the impression that inky clouds were my exclusive super-power. But no worries — there are plenty of velociworms to go around. Would you care to share?  I'll even take care of those pesky moon-snot vines as a gesture of good-will.

A monstrous form emerges in a kaleidoscope of color and light, as a whirlpool of bioluminescent feathered fish illuminate gnarly tentacle-branches and a fang-filled mouth. The monster practically inhales the velociworms, while the feathered fish snatch up the stragglers. The moon snot vines retreat with a shudder, and all I can think is: Holy Kraken! What in the world is that thing? Some kind of mutant octopus-tree?

Octopus! The word forms angry ripples in the thick ether around me, like a child tossing petulant pebbles in a lake. I’m no more an octopus than you are a school-bus. If you could count, you’d see I have nine and a half limbs, not eight. And besides, I’m not a what, but a who.

I didn’t think I had spoken out loud.

No need. I don’t have ears so I wouldn’t be able to hear you, even if you did.

"Then how are you—how are we—actually conversing?" I ask.

Laughter washes over me in circles, making my skin feel electric. You think speech is the best way to communicate? No wonder humans are so confused all the time.