|A simulacrum of the universe.|
|These are streams of galaxies, each containing hundreds of billions of stars.|
Eventually I find myself alone again, approached by another object, but one that quickly shrinks in size. As before, it's formless, almost invisible, and as I get closer the object continues to shrink. I loom over it as it becomes pointlike, then somehow smaller. I have nothing more than a sense that it's becoming tinier and tinier with time, but where a normal object would vanish, I'm acutely aware of this one. I seem impossibly huge until the object it finally vanishes and the cycle repeats.
It's hard to put such an abstract experience into words, but the experience evokes panic to the point where I usually wake sweating. I've searched online for an explanation, or some similar accounts, and the best I've been able to find is this, which tentatively links the phenomenon to a neurological dysfunction called macro/microsomatognosia (or Alice in Wonderland syndrome). However I try to rationalize the experience when awake, it's just as terrifying each time I encounter it. While I can explain it away as the side effects of sleep paralysis or nighttime hallucinations, there's always the lingering feeling that I haven't experienced a distorted sense of scale at all, but a moment when the veil is lifted and I'm able to perceive the universe as it truly is.