That weird sensation that only lasts a few minutes

Sarah Sanchez said:Oh man, I totally went through the exact same thing! But for me, it was back when I was just a kid. It was super intense, happening almost every single night. Nowadays, it just pops up every once in a while... like, something big, then something small... or maybe something rough and then smooth.... hmm....
How could that possibly be linked to epilepsy?

I don't think we have this here.

I'm really digging this thread 🙂
Most of the stuff you guys are describing? Yeah, I've been there. It happened to me all the time growing up, usually whenever I had a fever... though it doesn't happen nearly as much now.
It always feels like I'm squeezing through these tiny, tight little tunnels. I spend the whole time thinking I'm never gonna make it out—it’s super claustrophobic. Then, out of nowhere, I break through and find myself in this massive room, kind of like a white cave. At the same time, the ceiling feels like it's right on top of me, but also like it's miles away. There's nothing in there at first. Then suddenly, these objects just start appearing, and I have to sort them. It’s like they’re coming at me on a conveyor belt. Before I know it, they’re popping up faster and faster until I’m totally buried. And then there are people around me—their lips are moving, but no sound comes out. Other times, it's the exact opposite: no mouths at all, just the sound of a thousand voices all talking at once, like some creepy sped-up recording... it's terrifying.
Lately, I've been having that thing someone else mentioned here. For maybe a second or two, I completely lose track of who I am, where I am, or what I was even doing. My eyes just dart around trying to find something familiar to help me make sense of things, but nothing clicks. Then, just as fast, it's gone.

It’s kind of similar to how people describe astral projection... you should definitely try googling some stuff about it. We all have the potential to actually travel there consciously, but it only happens once we really nail down the technique. Something pretty much identical to this (not gonna say "just like this," but you get what I mean) happens on a subconscious level too. It usually just happens for a split second when our focus slips, which lets us dip our toes into it semi-consciously. Kids find it way easier because they haven't been bogged down by psychological baggage like we have, and you see similar things happening during high fevers for the exact same reason. I'm not saying this is the absolute smoking gun, but you can definitely connect the dots yourself if you look into it.

btw...it happens to me too, and honestly, it’s been happening for a while now...sometimes it drives me nuts, but other times it’s actually pretty cool...it all just depends on what we're talking about. Most of the time, it feels like this abstract clash of opposites—usually black and white, though occasionally there's some color involved. Sometimes it hits you through sound, sometimes it doesn't...honestly, it's kind of a blast if you let it

I experience something quite similar. I don't hear or see anything specific, but when I lie down and close my eyes—trying to drift off, for instance—I get this strange sensation regarding the proportions of my body. It’s like a feeling that my head is massive and expanding, while my fingers feel tiny and far away... or something along those lines. I’m fully awake the whole time, just with my eyes closed. The sensation stops once I open them, though sometimes not immediately. Usually, it clears up after a few minutes. It rarely happens at night, mostly in the morning if I wake up, get out of bed, and then try to crawl back in to sleep again. I don't recall this happening during childhood; it started maybe five or six years ago, and even then, it isn't frequent. It isn't particularly pleasant or unpleasant, but it does make it hard to focus on falling asleep.
Then, about two years ago, I started feeling that exact moment where you sink into sleep, and it would frighten me wide awake. It’s like that split second of awareness when they administer anesthesia before surgery... that sudden drop. That feeling became a major issue, eventually leading to insomnia. As it turns out, depression was the culprit; since I started taking my antidepressants, that sensation hasn't returned.

Well, I guess it’s time for me to join the club. It’s the exact same thing—those same sensations I used to get as a kid, and even now as an adult when I’m winding down at night or just feeling exhausted. I actually realized recently that whenever I’m playing a certain video game and there’s some mindless, childishly annoying background music playing, my brain just drifts right back into that same state. I start hearing voices—some quiet, some loud, some sounding far away and others right next to me—but really, it’s just one male voice, yelling at someone, or maybe even at me. Honestly, it’s pretty unsettling, and it actually gets on my nerves a little bit. Usually, I lose all sense of scale and distance, so I just give up and head to bed.

Dana Vaughn3 said:Did most of you kids go through this kind of thing?
I honestly thought I was the only one who saw—and actually FELT—those tiny, massive ripples vibrating in some kind of liquid. 😍
I kind of miss it, actually. It was pretty cool. Not that I'm worried, I guess, though maybe there’s something to it now that you mentioned the epilepsy connection 🤔.

The brain is a weird thing, I suppose.

It’s because a child's brain is still under construction... and once you hit a fever, the whole system glitches out—electrical signals and nerves just don't cooperate properly.

Man 😲 it’s so similar to this, except I’m actually flying inside it!! It feels just like watching this, even though my screen is black and white and made of blocks.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A5Yj6ImVc1k

Hey everyone. I went through something remarkably similar, though I can't say for certain if it’s tied to what you're describing. Back when I was dealing with withdrawal from all the nonsense I'd been putting into my system, I slipped into a sort of vegetative state. I couldn't function on my own, and there's a massive blank in my memory from that period—it lasted about a month. The only thing I can actually recall is this overwhelming, uncontrollable urge to twist my head. It wasn't just a movement; it felt like a physical necessity. I’d start turning my head and jaw with such force that it felt like I was going to snap my own neck, yet I couldn't stop myself. Once I finally came to, the people watching over me told me they could see it happening—this frantic twisting would precede a major seizure. It happened five or six times a day. Honestly, it’s a sickening thought to look back on.

That was really the only time I experienced anything like it, so maybe there is some kind of psychological game being played by the brain during an episode. I can't be sure; it hasn't happened since.

I also used to get this sensation whenever I closed my eyes—a complete distortion of scale where large objects looked tiny and small things looked massive. Again, this only happened while I was using, and it was a deeply unsettling feeling.

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?

I actually get a very similar feeling myself from time to time. For me, it’s like a total "blackout" hits out of nowhere. It only lasts for a few seconds, but while it's happening, I get this intense sense of relaxation and a complete loss of perception... it's like nothing exists around me, almost like I'm floating in a total vacuum... So strange...

Sometimes when I close my eyes, it’s like looking at a corrupted file—just black voids eating away at the edges, with some random figure flickering up and down right in the center of the static

Honestly, the whole thing just gives me major video game vibes!

I’ve had this happen to me before. Usually, it hits right when I’m winding down for the night—I'll be sitting there in bed, watching some show on the TV, and suddenly everything just gets... weird. It’s hard to describe, but it feels like the screen is pulsing toward me and then receding at the same time. Just a bizarre sensation. I remember it vividly. Then, once I finally shut the TV off and actually tried to go to sleep, the vertigo wouldn't let up. It felt as if my bed was swaying, almost like it was floating on water or spinning slowly in place.

Man, those are some wild experiences...

Honestly, if it doesn't freak you out too much, I wouldn't even sweat it.

Who knows? Maybe it’s just some leftover energy from a past life or some latent psychic potential buried deep inside us.

I’ve had something pretty similar happen to me,
usually when I'm drifting off or right as I'm waking up. It’s this intense sensation, like my body is about to lift straight off the mattress and just start floating. For me, it’s always felt like this weird little game. Sometimes I actually lean into it—just let go completely—and I can literally feel the gravity losing its grip on me, like I'm just seconds away from taking flight.

On top of that, I'll get these random moments where it feels like someone is screaming in my ears one second and then whispering the next. Or that terrifying feeling of just dropping through the floor. But honestly, I don't think it's anything crazy; I bet plenty of other people have been through it. I still remember this one time I snapped awake from a dream and whipped my head to the side because I was dead certain someone was standing right at the foot of my bed. Chills, man. Must've been some kind of ghost or something.🙂

😲 man, I honestly thought I was just the only weirdo out there 😁
I remember this being such a massive thing for me when I was younger. Every single time I’d try to lay down, it felt like some heavy-ass vase was gonna swallow me whole or a giant textbook was about to crush me under all its weight. It doesn't hit me quite as often anymore, but yeah, it still flares up maybe twice a year.
It’s like everything is shifting—one second it feels super close, then suddenly it's miles away. One minute it’s tiny, the next it’s huge. Sometimes you feel like you’re touching it, and other times it feels like it’s reaching out to touch *you*. You feel high up, and then boom, you start falling. It’s freaking terrifying 😢

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?

This has already been discussed in another thread. Here's the link:

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Here is a more complete version; have a look:

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I’m feeling those same strange sensations too—like being stuck in that hazy limbo between waking and dreaming. It's hard to put into words.

I’ve got something similar going on too. It mostly happens when I’m hopping in the shower! Everything I do, everything I hear—it all feels incredibly slowed down!! Everything, everything, everything!!! Or sometimes the exact opposite happens and everything just speeds up!!! weird