That weird sensation that only lasts a few minutes

I am going to attempt to articulate this with as much precision as possible, though, quite frankly, even I struggle to pin down a definition for this sensation.

I’m twenty-two years old, and looking back, I can recall these episodes occurring since I was just a child. It always follows the exact same trajectory; I recognize the onset instantly, knowing full well that I am about to embark on this experience again within the next few minutes. It typically strikes when I am exhausted—perhaps during a mid-afternoon nap or just as I’m drifting off to sleep. Suddenly, my perception of the objects surrounding me undergoes a radical shift. Objects seem to gain this immense mass, yet simultaneously, I harbor this bizarre impression that they have shrunk in scale and are hovering right within arm's reach; for instance, if I’m lying in bed, I get this overwhelming sense that I could simply reach out and grab the doorknob across the room.

Inside my mind, things become even more surreal. These aren't hallucinations in the traditional sense, but rather an intense internal sensation—a constant, paradoxical tug-of-war between thoughts of something being gargantuan and something being microscopic. There is this quiet voice that manages to be piercingly loud at the same time, almost as if it’s shouting at me, all underscored by a mounting sense of dread. Then, I experience this sensation of hurtling through something perfectly smooth and level, only to plunge headlong into a chaotic nightmare of jagged edges and sharp protrusions, moving through it all at breakneck speed. None of this manifests physically; it is purely a phenomenon existing within my consciousness. The moment I attempt to focus on one specific sensation, it slips from my grasp, only to reappear in some other part of my periphery that I wasn't attending to. I am perpetually submerged in this medium, unable to truly grasp its nature. It feels as though I am constantly on the precipice of understanding exactly what is happening, but the truth always eludes me by a hair's breadth.

The entire episode lasts about five minutes before vanishing entirely without any lingering physical aftereffects. What infuriates me most is this absolute inability to comprehend the mechanics of it. Once the event concludes, the memory begins to fade immediately, making it incredibly difficult to describe the sheer intensity of those few minutes. It is as if my brain switched into an entirely different operating mode. This doesn't happen often—maybe just a couple of times a year.

In the past, I kept this to myself because the sheer strangeness of it was frightening, but I was stunned last year when, during a conversation with my college roommate, I realized he experiences the exact same thing. He tried to explain his version, but he too found himself stumbling for the right words. However, we are both certain that we are navigating the same type of "disorder"—this strange duality of something being tiny, quiet, and yet massive and deafening, combined with that feeling of passing through a specific medium. He described it somewhat like traveling through a tube that isn't hollow, but is instead completely solid.

I would be immensely grateful if anyone else who experiences such phenomena would share their accounts. Does anyone know what this might be? Is it a recognized condition? Is there any literature or research on this topic? Most importantly, is this something serious, and should I be seeking out a psychiatrist to discuss it?

I'm going through the exact same thing! It started back when I was a kid and had a fever. Now, it pops up in those same situations you mentioned. For me, they look like big squares appearing just like how you described. I don't let it worry me too much... but I am curious about what's actually happening.

Yeah, I feel that too. It’s exactly like you said—you can’t even put a finger on what it actually is. For me, it’s mostly just uncomfortable. It used to happen all the time back when I was a kid, and whenever I’m sick now. Everything just goes black and white, like the world is breaking into pieces or blurring together. I don't know how to explain it, but it feels semi-physical? Like I can feel this weird sensation in my hands, almost like I'm clutching onto chunks of... whatever this is.
Does anyone actually know what this is??
At least I know I'm not the only one dealing with this.🙏

I was just sitting there the other day... when my old lady walked into the room
And I swear, I looked up and thought her head looked way bigger than usual...
But nah... turns out she just had a swollen tooth, so her whole face was all puffed up
xD 😂

😲
I get the same "thing" happening—no warning at all. It usually hits right when I'm drifting off. It feels like these little bubbles or spheres just growing inside my head. As soon as I snap my eyes open, it stops. And yeah, it can happen again 🤷. I eventually pass out... it doesn't really freak me out, but I guess I'm curious about the how and why 🙂

crimsonwalker80 said:I am going to attempt to articulate this with as much precision as possible, though, quite frankly, even I struggle to pin down a definition for this sensation.

I’m twenty-two years old, and looking back, I can recall these episodes occurring since I was just a child. It always follows the exact same trajectory; I recognize the onset instantly, knowing full well that I am about to embark on this experience again within the next few minutes. It typically strikes when I am exhausted—perhaps during a mid-afternoon nap or just as I’m drifting off to sleep. Suddenly, my perception of the objects surrounding me undergoes a radical shift. Objects seem to gain this immense mass, yet simultaneously, I harbor this bizarre impression that they have shrunk in scale and are hovering right within arm's reach; for instance, if I’m lying in bed, I get this overwhelming sense that I could simply reach out and grab the doorknob across the room.

Inside my mind, things become even more surreal. These aren't hallucinations in the traditional sense, but rather an intense internal sensation—a constant, paradoxical tug-of-war between thoughts of something being gargantuan and something being microscopic. There is this quiet voice that manages to be piercingly loud at the same time, almost as if it’s shouting at me, all underscored by a mounting sense of dread. Then, I experience this sensation of hurtling through something perfectly smooth and level, only to plunge headlong into a chaotic nightmare of jagged edges and sharp protrusions, moving through it all at breakneck speed. None of this manifests physically; it is purely a phenomenon existing within my consciousness. The moment I attempt to focus on one specific sensation, it slips from my grasp, only to reappear in some other part of my periphery that I wasn't attending to. I am perpetually submerged in this medium, unable to truly grasp its nature. It feels as though I am constantly on the precipice of understanding exactly what is happening, but the truth always eludes me by a hair's breadth.

The entire episode lasts about five minutes before vanishing entirely without any lingering physical aftereffects. What infuriates me most is this absolute inability to comprehend the mechanics of it. Once the event concludes, the memory begins to fade immediately, making it incredibly difficult to describe the sheer intensity of those few minutes. It is as if my brain switched into an entirely different operating mode. This doesn't happen often—maybe just a couple of times a year.

In the past, I kept this to myself because the sheer strangeness of it was frightening, but I was stunned last year when, during a conversation with my college roommate, I realized he experiences the exact same thing. He tried to explain his version, but he too found himself stumbling for the right words. However, we are both certain that we are navigating the same type of "disorder"—this strange duality of something being tiny, quiet, and yet massive and deafening, combined with that feeling of passing through a specific medium. He described it somewhat like traveling through a tube that isn't hollow, but is instead completely solid.

I would be immensely grateful if anyone else who experiences such phenomena would share their accounts. Does anyone know what this might be? Is it a recognized condition? Is there any literature or research on this topic? Most importantly, is this something serious, and should I be seeking out a psychiatrist to discuss it?

Man, the same thing happens to me. It's this undefined sensation I've had since I was little, but I seriously can't put it into words. There's always this nagging feeling that something is off, but I can't define what it is... total same situation.

crimsonwalker80 said:I am going to attempt to articulate this with as much precision as possible, though, quite frankly, even I struggle to pin down a definition for this sensation.

I’m twenty-two years old, and looking back, I can recall these episodes occurring since I was just a child. It always follows the exact same trajectory; I recognize the onset instantly, knowing full well that I am about to embark on this experience again within the next few minutes. It typically strikes when I am exhausted—perhaps during a mid-afternoon nap or just as I’m drifting off to sleep. Suddenly, my perception of the objects surrounding me undergoes a radical shift. Objects seem to gain this immense mass, yet simultaneously, I harbor this bizarre impression that they have shrunk in scale and are hovering right within arm's reach; for instance, if I’m lying in bed, I get this overwhelming sense that I could simply reach out and grab the doorknob across the room.

Inside my mind, things become even more surreal. These aren't hallucinations in the traditional sense, but rather an intense internal sensation—a constant, paradoxical tug-of-war between thoughts of something being gargantuan and something being microscopic. There is this quiet voice that manages to be piercingly loud at the same time, almost as if it’s shouting at me, all underscored by a mounting sense of dread. Then, I experience this sensation of hurtling through something perfectly smooth and level, only to plunge headlong into a chaotic nightmare of jagged edges and sharp protrusions, moving through it all at breakneck speed. None of this manifests physically; it is purely a phenomenon existing within my consciousness. The moment I attempt to focus on one specific sensation, it slips from my grasp, only to reappear in some other part of my periphery that I wasn't attending to. I am perpetually submerged in this medium, unable to truly grasp its nature. It feels as though I am constantly on the precipice of understanding exactly what is happening, but the truth always eludes me by a hair's breadth.

The entire episode lasts about five minutes before vanishing entirely without any lingering physical aftereffects. What infuriates me most is this absolute inability to comprehend the mechanics of it. Once the event concludes, the memory begins to fade immediately, making it incredibly difficult to describe the sheer intensity of those few minutes. It is as if my brain switched into an entirely different operating mode. This doesn't happen often—maybe just a couple of times a year.

In the past, I kept this to myself because the sheer strangeness of it was frightening, but I was stunned last year when, during a conversation with my college roommate, I realized he experiences the exact same thing. He tried to explain his version, but he too found himself stumbling for the right words. However, we are both certain that we are navigating the same type of "disorder"—this strange duality of something being tiny, quiet, and yet massive and deafening, combined with that feeling of passing through a specific medium. He described it somewhat like traveling through a tube that isn't hollow, but is instead completely solid.

I would be immensely grateful if anyone else who experiences such phenomena would share their accounts. Does anyone know what this might be? Is it a recognized condition? Is there any literature or research on this topic? Most importantly, is this something serious, and should I be seeking out a psychiatrist to discuss it?

http://www.forum.com/showthread.php?t=314444

🤷

Wait, did you guys all know that health insurance actually covers psychiatrists too? 🤷

Robin Bailey91 said:Man, the same thing happens to me. It's this undefined sensation I've had since I was little, but I seriously can't put it into words. There's always this nagging feeling that something is off, but I can't define what it is... total same situation.

I am not about to read this kind of nonsense here.😂
As soon as someone posts something like this, everyone suddenly starts talking about their weird feelings and imaginary squares and bubbles.😂

holloworca19 said:I am not about to read this kind of nonsense here.😂
As soon as someone posts something like this, everyone suddenly starts talking about their weird feelings and imaginary squares and bubbles.😂

That gave me a good laugh.😂😂😂

crimsonwalker80 said:I am going to attempt to articulate this with as much precision as possible, though, quite frankly, even I struggle to pin down a definition for this sensation.

I’m twenty-two years old, and looking back, I can recall these episodes occurring since I was just a child. It always follows the exact same trajectory; I recognize the onset instantly, knowing full well that I am about to embark on this experience again within the next few minutes. It typically strikes when I am exhausted—perhaps during a mid-afternoon nap or just as I’m drifting off to sleep. Suddenly, my perception of the objects surrounding me undergoes a radical shift. Objects seem to gain this immense mass, yet simultaneously, I harbor this bizarre impression that they have shrunk in scale and are hovering right within arm's reach; for instance, if I’m lying in bed, I get this overwhelming sense that I could simply reach out and grab the doorknob across the room.

Inside my mind, things become even more surreal. These aren't hallucinations in the traditional sense, but rather an intense internal sensation—a constant, paradoxical tug-of-war between thoughts of something being gargantuan and something being microscopic. There is this quiet voice that manages to be piercingly loud at the same time, almost as if it’s shouting at me, all underscored by a mounting sense of dread. Then, I experience this sensation of hurtling through something perfectly smooth and level, only to plunge headlong into a chaotic nightmare of jagged edges and sharp protrusions, moving through it all at breakneck speed. None of this manifests physically; it is purely a phenomenon existing within my consciousness. The moment I attempt to focus on one specific sensation, it slips from my grasp, only to reappear in some other part of my periphery that I wasn't attending to. I am perpetually submerged in this medium, unable to truly grasp its nature. It feels as though I am constantly on the precipice of understanding exactly what is happening, but the truth always eludes me by a hair's breadth.

The entire episode lasts about five minutes before vanishing entirely without any lingering physical aftereffects. What infuriates me most is this absolute inability to comprehend the mechanics of it. Once the event concludes, the memory begins to fade immediately, making it incredibly difficult to describe the sheer intensity of those few minutes. It is as if my brain switched into an entirely different operating mode. This doesn't happen often—maybe just a couple of times a year.

In the past, I kept this to myself because the sheer strangeness of it was frightening, but I was stunned last year when, during a conversation with my college roommate, I realized he experiences the exact same thing. He tried to explain his version, but he too found himself stumbling for the right words. However, we are both certain that we are navigating the same type of "disorder"—this strange duality of something being tiny, quiet, and yet massive and deafening, combined with that feeling of passing through a specific medium. He described it somewhat like traveling through a tube that isn't hollow, but is instead completely solid.

I would be immensely grateful if anyone else who experiences such phenomena would share their accounts. Does anyone know what this might be? Is it a recognized condition? Is there any literature or research on this topic? Most importantly, is this something serious, and should I be seeking out a psychiatrist to discuss it?

You described what happens to me perfectly (though it's much less frequent for me now than it used to be). The only extra thing I experience is this sense of fragmentation, like everything is stuttering or glitching out about ten times a second—like a t-t-t-t-t-tt 😁 I don't even know how to describe it, it's like the whole world is jerking or twitching.

The whole episode lasts about five minutes, and then it vanishes without leaving any lingering effects. What gets under my skin the most is the inability to make sense of it. As soon as it's over, the memory fades, making it incredibly difficult to recount what I actually went through during those few minutes. It’s as if I was operating in some completely different mode of existence. This only happens very rarely, maybe a couple of times a year.

In the past, I kept this to myself because it genuinely scared me. But last year, I had a bit of a revelation when I was chatting with a college roommate and realized he goes through the exact same thing. He tried to explain his experience, but he struggled to find the right words just like I do. However, we are both certain we're dealing with the same kind of "glitch"—something subtle and quiet yet simultaneously huge and deafening, involving that passage through a strange medium. He described it like traveling through a pipe that isn't hollow, but instead completely solid.

If anyone else out there is experiencing this, I would be so grateful if you could share. Does anyone know what this is? Is it a recognized phenomenon? Is there any literature on it? Is this something serious that warrants a trip to a psychiatrist?

crimsonwalker80 said:I am going to attempt to articulate this with as much precision as possible, though, quite frankly, even I struggle to pin down a definition for this sensation.

I’m twenty-two years old, and looking back, I can recall these episodes occurring since I was just a child. It always follows the exact same trajectory; I recognize the onset instantly, knowing full well that I am about to embark on this experience again within the next few minutes. It typically strikes when I am exhausted—perhaps during a mid-afternoon nap or just as I’m drifting off to sleep. Suddenly, my perception of the objects surrounding me undergoes a radical shift. Objects seem to gain this immense mass, yet simultaneously, I harbor this bizarre impression that they have shrunk in scale and are hovering right within arm's reach; for instance, if I’m lying in bed, I get this overwhelming sense that I could simply reach out and grab the doorknob across the room.

Inside my mind, things become even more surreal. These aren't hallucinations in the traditional sense, but rather an intense internal sensation—a constant, paradoxical tug-of-war between thoughts of something being gargantuan and something being microscopic. There is this quiet voice that manages to be piercingly loud at the same time, almost as if it’s shouting at me, all underscored by a mounting sense of dread. Then, I experience this sensation of hurtling through something perfectly smooth and level, only to plunge headlong into a chaotic nightmare of jagged edges and sharp protrusions, moving through it all at breakneck speed. None of this manifests physically; it is purely a phenomenon existing within my consciousness. The moment I attempt to focus on one specific sensation, it slips from my grasp, only to reappear in some other part of my periphery that I wasn't attending to. I am perpetually submerged in this medium, unable to truly grasp its nature. It feels as though I am constantly on the precipice of understanding exactly what is happening, but the truth always eludes me by a hair's breadth.

The entire episode lasts about five minutes before vanishing entirely without any lingering physical aftereffects. What infuriates me most is this absolute inability to comprehend the mechanics of it. Once the event concludes, the memory begins to fade immediately, making it incredibly difficult to describe the sheer intensity of those few minutes. It is as if my brain switched into an entirely different operating mode. This doesn't happen often—maybe just a couple of times a year.

In the past, I kept this to myself because the sheer strangeness of it was frightening, but I was stunned last year when, during a conversation with my college roommate, I realized he experiences the exact same thing. He tried to explain his version, but he too found himself stumbling for the right words. However, we are both certain that we are navigating the same type of "disorder"—this strange duality of something being tiny, quiet, and yet massive and deafening, combined with that feeling of passing through a specific medium. He described it somewhat like traveling through a tube that isn't hollow, but is instead completely solid.

I would be immensely grateful if anyone else who experiences such phenomena would share their accounts. Does anyone know what this might be? Is it a recognized condition? Is there any literature or research on this topic? Most importantly, is this something serious, and should I be seeking out a psychiatrist to discuss it?

Yeah, this happens to me too.
I haven't really brought it up to anyone, not because I thought it was "crazy" or anything weird, but mostly because I just chalked it up to being tired. You know how it is—when your eyes are strained, they just start playing tricks on you...🤷

loneviper15 said:You described what happens to me perfectly (though it's much less frequent for me now than it used to be). The only extra thing I experience is this sense of fragmentation, like everything is stuttering or glitching out about ten times a second—like a t-t-t-t-t-tt 😁 I don't even know how to describe it, it's like the whole world is jerking or twitching.

The whole episode lasts about five minutes, and then it vanishes without leaving any lingering effects. What gets under my skin the most is the inability to make sense of it. As soon as it's over, the memory fades, making it incredibly difficult to recount what I actually went through during those few minutes. It’s as if I was operating in some completely different mode of existence. This only happens very rarely, maybe a couple of times a year.

In the past, I kept this to myself because it genuinely scared me. But last year, I had a bit of a revelation when I was chatting with a college roommate and realized he goes through the exact same thing. He tried to explain his experience, but he struggled to find the right words just like I do. However, we are both certain we're dealing with the same kind of "glitch"—something subtle and quiet yet simultaneously huge and deafening, involving that passage through a strange medium. He described it like traveling through a pipe that isn't hollow, but instead completely solid.

If anyone else out there is experiencing this, I would be so grateful if you could share. Does anyone know what this is? Is it a recognized phenomenon? Is there any literature on it? Is this something serious that warrants a trip to a psychiatrist?

And oh man, yes! That exact twitching sensation—all those mental images flash by accompanied by those jarring jolts, yet they remain totally elusive, as if everything is being squeezed under some sort of immense, crushing pressure...

I’m actually going through those exact same things mentioned in the first post—except for me, it hits about a couple of times a month. It’s this bizarre sensation where everything around me suddenly seems tiny, almost weightless, like objects have lost all their mass and I just... can't touch them. It’s that same specific feeling that strips away my ability to judge distance or size, and because my sense of gravity and weight just vanishes, I feel like I'm floating inside my own skin. I completely lose any grasp on the third dimension; it’s like being trapped in a two-dimensional world. My entire consciousness just gets swallowed up by the state itself. Once it finally passes, though, there’s this intense feeling of being "emptied out"—everything clears up, I can actually perceive the dimensions of the world again, and I feel like I'm finally standing firmly on solid ground.
I think I heard somewhere—maybe on some news program or a documentary—that this is actually a mild form of epilepsy. I might have misremembered what was said, but a doctor once mentioned that epilepsy isn't just about the "grand mal" seizures everyone thinks of; it includes these subtle, minor episodes that most people don't even realize they're experiencing 😢

Does anyone else experience seeing colors and circles?
Whenever I’m completely exhausted, running a fever, or just naturally drifting off, I start seeing moving circles when I close my eyes—they expand outward, much like the ripples you see when you toss a stone into a still pond. They show up most often in shades of green, blue, red, and purple. When my eyes are open, however, I only see white rings expanding; they never carry color while I'm awake. I only encounter them when I am profoundly relaxed, and sometimes I even find myself intentionally trying to "summon" them when I'm alone and lost in thought, drifting into that alpha state.

Most of you here seem to point toward fatigue or illness as the trigger. Personally, I suspect we're looking at brainwave frequencies. When we are fully alert and intellectually engaged, our brains operate on higher frequencies, specifically the beta range. Once we relax or prepare for sleep, we drop into the alpha range. Deep sleep is tied to theta waves, and the deepest stages fall into delta.

My theory is that the whole phenomenon stems from that alpha state triggered by exhaustion, fever, or physical depletion. In those moments, the brain shifts its level of consciousness and how it perceives reality. That would explain why some of you perceive objects as being closer than they actually are, while I see these rhythmic circles.
I once read somewhere that astral projection is essentially nothing more than a shift in one's state of consciousness. But then again, who can say for sure? 🤷

Jack Williams6 said:I’m actually going through those exact same things mentioned in the first post—except for me, it hits about a couple of times a month. It’s this bizarre sensation where everything around me suddenly seems tiny, almost weightless, like objects have lost all their mass and I just... can't touch them. It’s that same specific feeling that strips away my ability to judge distance or size, and because my sense of gravity and weight just vanishes, I feel like I'm floating inside my own skin. I completely lose any grasp on the third dimension; it’s like being trapped in a two-dimensional world. My entire consciousness just gets swallowed up by the state itself. Once it finally passes, though, there’s this intense feeling of being "emptied out"—everything clears up, I can actually perceive the dimensions of the world again, and I feel like I'm finally standing firmly on solid ground.
I think I heard somewhere—maybe on some news program or a documentary—that this is actually a mild form of epilepsy. I might have misremembered what was said, but a doctor once mentioned that epilepsy isn't just about the "grand mal" seizures everyone thinks of; it includes these subtle, minor episodes that most people don't even realize they're experiencing 😢

I’ve been doing a bit of digging into the subject of epilepsy just now, and honestly, I think you hit the nail on the head regarding it being a more subtle manifestation of an epileptic seizure. This specific sensation is actually referred to as an aura. To put it simply, it's as if the neurons become hyper-reactive to stimuli, essentially sparking a localized storm within a single section of the brain. With an aura, that electrical tempest stays confined to a small area, which results in those bizarre sensations—for some, it might be visual distortions, for others, auditory hallucinations, or perhaps that disorienting sense of déjà vu, or maybe a dizzying cocktail of all three. Frequently, this aura serves as a precursor to a major seizure that spreads across a larger portion of the brain, acting as a warning sign for those dealing with more severe cases. However, sometimes the aura simply dissipates without ever escalating into a full seizure, which would represent the mildest possible iteration of the condition.

Here is a bit of what I managed to dig up; there seems to be quite a wealth of information available on the topic:
http://www.epilepsy.com/epilepsy/seizure_simplepartial

holloworca19 said:I am not about to read this kind of nonsense here.😂
As soon as someone posts something like this, everyone suddenly starts talking about their weird feelings and imaginary squares and bubbles.😂

What kind of joke is this?! This is just pathetic. Seriously, how low can people go?

crimsonwalker80 said:And oh man, yes! That exact twitching sensation—all those mental images flash by accompanied by those jarring jolts, yet they remain totally elusive, as if everything is being squeezed under some sort of immense, crushing pressure...

And the pressure! I totally blanked on that part😁. But honestly, it isn't even an unpleasant sensation; it’s actually pretty wild😂.
edit1:
It just hit me—there's this one Slayer track😁 where the music gets incredibly staccato and fragmented during one section. It reminds me perfectly of that "experience." The song is called "Death's Head," and if I can track down the right version to clip that specific part, I'll post it here for you guys! =)

edit2: Here is the linkhttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ry8ABJXxXmo. If you jump to 1:39, that "broken" musical section kicks in and lasts for about ten seconds.

It’s not hallucinations. It’s more like this sensation... thoughts constantly clashing over something massive yet somehow tiny at the same time. Like this quiet voice that manages to be piercingly loud, almost screaming at me, wrapped up in this underlying fear. Then there's the feeling of sliding through something perfectly smooth and level, only to slam straight into chaos—a nightmare of jagged edges and sharp points—and I'm moving through it all at high speed.

This exact thing has been happening to me since I was a kid. It only hits occasionally, so I never really gave it much thought, but reading this definitely caught me off guard.
Usually, when it happens, I first see something incredibly pure, white, and completely smooth. Then comes the dark stuff—crinkled, rough, and sharp. After that, it's images of things that are impossibly huge followed by things that are microscopically small, or a mix of both. Like seeing something massive and heavy standing right on top of something tiny and distant. That whiteness and purity before the rough, crumpled part sometimes gets even thinner, paler, and finer, just before hitting that jagged mess. And there's never an emotion attached to it, like sadness or joy. Just a sensation...

wiredmaker18 said:It’s not hallucinations. It’s more like this sensation... thoughts constantly clashing over something massive yet somehow tiny at the same time. Like this quiet voice that manages to be piercingly loud, almost screaming at me, wrapped up in this underlying fear. Then there's the feeling of sliding through something perfectly smooth and level, only to slam straight into chaos—a nightmare of jagged edges and sharp points—and I'm moving through it all at high speed.

This exact thing has been happening to me since I was a kid. It only hits occasionally, so I never really gave it much thought, but reading this definitely caught me off guard.
Usually, when it happens, I first see something incredibly pure, white, and completely smooth. Then comes the dark stuff—crinkled, rough, and sharp. After that, it's images of things that are impossibly huge followed by things that are microscopically small, or a mix of both. Like seeing something massive and heavy standing right on top of something tiny and distant. That whiteness and purity before the rough, crumpled part sometimes gets even thinner, paler, and finer, just before hitting that jagged mess. And there's never an emotion attached to it, like sadness or joy. Just a sensation...

Same here, though for me, it was strictly a childhood thing—it just stopped. Personally, I found the smooth, fine parts beautiful, but once it turned jagged? Not so much. The feeling is similar to being on a carousel—just a slight sense of vertigo.