"Reality feels more like a stream of information passing through you in something closer to dream-feelings rather than what it actually is. Imagine you were dreaming about your home, when you wake up you realise it was odd but you don't really know why.

Turn your head to look at something and the world in front of you ceases to exist, look down at your phone and that's the only thing in the universe until you look up again. Your room isn't your room. It's a dream room, it feels like the entirety of the known universe, it's a stage that encompasses your entire existence.

Everything feels muted. Like the difference between running your bare hands over a silk sheet and then doing it while wearing ski-gloves.

Things that happened a minute ago enter your mind as if they were vague memories from decades past, earlier this-morning might as well be last year to me. Nothing feels real. During this period of life I bought a dog and I've spent most every day for years now with it. I know it's real because the dog is here with me, but if someone were to take my dog away while I wasn't looking and tell me I never had one I'd probably believe them."