I remember talking to Jesus. Both of them.
The first was an RV from an elder brother. The two of us sometimes visited a guy who suffered schizophrenia and at times he thought he was Jesus. At least he knew he was 'crazy'.
In my early twenties a guy opened his door and said dead serious: Hi. I'm Jesus. No, he was not from a Spanish speaking background. The guy looked a bit odd, and there was no way to tell whether he was having an identity crisis of sorts, or that he was messing with me. Either way I couldn't think of anything left to say right then and there. Just said bye and left.