Stupid shit I come up with in times of stress

I wrote this in twenty minutes on a scrap piece of paper after I finished a Spanish exam last year. I don't really know what to make of it, but it does show what kind of retarded shit goes on in my head when I'm under pressure.

What if our existence is just a concept? Perhaps the product of the deranged imaginations of a sentient being whose mind is so complex that our own minds lack the capacity to comprehend its very concept? What if its mind works in so many dimensions that its thoughts take on a greater form than does our own, which merely holds ideas in an abstract, intangible state. Perhaps its mind is capable of much greater things, and whose thoughts take on a greater form; perhaps we are the ideas themselves, or the means to preserve it, much like the electrons and charges that run our brain.
If it is a god, then why did he create us? To satiate its ego? To satiate its ego not by our actionas, but by the mere fact that we exist? Or perhaps we are merely the unfortunate byproduct of his mental processes.
I just realized that "mind" may not be an accurate way to describe it, though for our intents and purposes, it will have to do.
The questions is then, how do we know if our very existence is real? If we are mere products of an imagination, then relatively speaking, we are worth no more than the ideas we create. You can look at it optimistically: it may mean that our minds are infinitely valuable. However, a pessimistic viewpoint (the one that I tend to favor) would be that we are worthless.
The problem is that we cannot, due to our limited mental capacity, really know what is real, and if our reality is merely an illusion, it is only so to whatever created it, not us.

I think this was the result of residual bullshit expended during the exam.