Last night I zoned in on the weirdest, scariest thing in the entire universe

Last night, I was awoken by an incredible urge to suddenly inspect a small, patch of wall on the low end of our bedroom ceiling. It’s a small part of the wall that is tucked behind a blanket that hangs over a dresser in our bedroom. <br><br>I always wondered why that blanket was there, in the corner, on top of our dresser amongst all of my husband’s work-related memorabilia that my OCD compels me to meticulously dust and polish every other day. And with that blanket on top, it made it SO hard to get all the way to that corner, to push it just a little bit further with the duster. I may have even whined a little bit about this blanket and how it required me to clean it every other day instead of simply leaving it there and letting the dust accumulate all over the figurine’s, pictures, glass objects, and other things my husband treasures, that it hangs right above.<br><br>So why did I need to inspect that spot so bad? I’m not sure, but I remember when that urge hit me, I shot up out of bed faster than I ever have before. It was as if instinct had taken over my body and was moving me to get in position, the way an animal does when it’s trying to hunt or how a cat moves when they see a fly. My husband woke up and asked me what I was doing, and my first reaction was to shush him. <br><br>The second I did that, I realized it was a mistake. My husband is not a confrontational guy, I think he’d much rather die than he’d engage in conflict. So he simply said, “Okaaaaay” and went back to sleep. But I was instantly overcome with guilt and I nearly woke him up to insist I didn’t mean it. To let him know I love him so much and I’d never shush him in his sleep because I am riding on the back of his success….But I decided not to. <br><br>I decided to ignore that guilt. It’s not like him to be confrontational anyhow, so I would just wait until I got a chance to be nice and he’d forget all about it. That’s okay. I just stood there and listened to him snore. His breathing was so peaceful and normal. I watched his chest moving up and down…It was almost hypnotic. Then I refocused on my destination and put my hands and feet on the dresser and reached up to that shit little corner of the ceiling and peered into it, all the way. <br><br>I looked in there, and I just kept looking and looking and looking until I was overcome with an incredible vertigo. A feeling in my head that I have never experienced before. My husband has been doing these psychedelic drugs that he says give him this feeling of vertigo, like the walls are closing in on him and shit. I suddenly understood what he was describing to me. I’ve never experienced anything like that before. <br><br>It was as if I suddenly realized I was laying on my side, on a bed, in a bedroom, in a giant house, in a neighborhood of houses, in a city of houses, in a state of cities, in a country of states, in a region of countries, in a continent of regions, in a world of continents, in a solar system with a bunch of planets, in a galaxy filled with solar systems, in the observable universe, where there’s an infinite number of galaxies. <br><br>That’s what popped into my head. Like a vision or something. I felt like my brain was expanding and I felt pain in my forehead. I felt like my brain was suddenly growing and it was growing too big for my head, the way my stomach grows SO much after just a few bites of food. I suddenly felt a wave of cold nausea and then, I passed out. And I’m not kidding you, I woke up this morning in my bed and my husband was already in the kitchen making coffee. I went to the kitchen and he was already working on his second cup.<br><br>It was as if none of that had happened. I was really wondering if I’d dreamt the whole thing. I decided to go look, just for the hell of it. To see if that patch of wall on the ceiling even exists. I would lose my fucking mind if it didn’t. So I went into our bedroom and I looked up. I reached my hand up where I had put it, and sure enough. There it was. And I swear to SOAD, my hand looked like it was less than an inch from that ceiling. How did I get up there? I’ve been standing there for minutes, staring up at it, trying to understand, but I have no idea. <br><br>And so now I’m sitting on our couch, writing this on my iPad, stoned out of my fucking mind, because we have a box of gummies from my husband’s trip last week. I had been saving them, and his trip came at a perfect time because I’ve been feeling incredibly anxious, and I’d rather not get too stoned right now, I have commissions in my stoned state and I have to drive my car to get a manicure later, but I’m so confused and so anxious about what happened, so I decided to just take one of those gummies, because why not? <br><br>I’ve been zoned in on the ceiling in our bedroom for hours. Every now and then, I’ll get up and check to see if I can see anything. I’m zoning in on it harder than I’ve zoned in on anything before, because I want to broaden my perspective, I want to expand my mind, I want to know more. I want to know everything. <br><br>And now, after about 6 hours of simply staring at the wall, I feel I broaden my perspective even more. I feel I’m now riding on the back of our sun….And I’m looking down at the planets, staring at Jupiter. And with the next breath, I’m floating in our galaxy, where I’ve hovered for a few hours, before I pulled out so far I was looking at the universe. I can see the edge of the universe and it’s so beautiful. <br><br>But the more I pull out, the more I broaden my perspective, the more I feel this vertigo. I like it though. It makes me feel so small. And the more I broaden, the smaller I feel. Like my anxiety means nothing. It’s so grounding. <br><br>But what I really want to know, is what is on the other side of the universe? I want to pull out so far I can see that. I want to see what the universe looks like, from the outside. I want to see the edge of it, because I know there *is* an edge. <br><br>But my brain is starting to feel too big for it again, and I feel that cold nausea coming back. SOAD, I hope I don’t pass out again. I’ve been laying on this couch for so long, I’m not sure I can get up. So I’ll keep posting and looking. I would love for you guys to join me on this journey. broaden your perspective. Pull out. Share your experiences with me. I want to hear about it. <br><br>And of course, I will continue to post my findings here.