I get that feeling often. Like, I’ll be walking down the street or eating some cake or performing some other mundane activity, and suddenly I get a feeling of self-consciousness. Not in the sense of embarrassment, but more along the lines of thinking, “Here I am, walking down the street [or whatever], and it’s happening right now. Is it even real? Am I dreaming? Am I just a character in a story, or part of someone else’s dream?” The fist time I remember this happening was in high school, during PE class. I find it often happens when I’m in downtown LA, but that might be because a lot of movies and TV commercials are shot there, which adds to the unreality of the whole thing.
Oh, absolutely.
In fact, the times when it doesn’t feel at least halfway fictional are rare.
Can you put your hands in your head, oh no!
You people are fucked!
I have a hard to describe sensation upon occasion that absolutely nothing on Earth makes sense. “Why in the hell did somebody come up with the idea for a Dixie Cup? Isn’t language arbitrary and stupid- why do we call a leaf a leaf and a stapler a stapler and not the other way around? How can people actually believe in gods or for that matter ever be optimistic about a thing?” type stuff that sounds like stoner-think, but I don’t do drugs of any kind (except tobacco). This is not well described here, but it’s very “all that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream”-like when it happens.
I get these weird feelings sometimes that I’m just…along for the ride. Like my body is doing things and I’m just kind of watching. Sometimes it also happens hand-in-hand with a burst of random emotion* that just kind of shows up, makes me feel whatever intensely for a while, and then just goes away just as quickly. I’m fairly convinced that those are looks into my ‘real’ world, out of the Matrix, so to speak. Or I’m being abducted by aliens repeatedly. Or something like that.
*Usually sad, and yes I know, it’s probably a symptom of my untreated depression.
I get the feeling that other people are part of my dream. Dream images of people. Solipsistic. 
I get this feeling sometimes, but beyond the strangeness of it, logic tells me that this - right here, right now - is as real as it gets. Not because the idea that it’s all a dream is inherently unacceptable to me, but because if one day I suddenly “woke up” on some “higher level”, I don’t see how it could be possible to escape that suspicion. How would I know if that reality is really real?
Anyway, the whole feeling is strangely comforting to me. Reminds of that whole Bill Hicks bit on how It’s Just A Ride. The fact is that this thing we call the universe exists, however truly “real” it is. And somehow, this tiny part of it is able to observe the rest of it and feel joy and love and all those other amazing things, and nothing else really matters. And that’s just just indescribably awesome, in the truest sense of the word.
I’m not religious at all, but it’s when I’m thinking along these lines that I start to understand how somebody could believe in God.
I so had that experience one day watching people carrying umbrellas. It just looked so odd, like something in a movie; people wandering around with sticks in their hands, flat objects on top.
I know the feeling. Like I’m deeper inside my head, looking out through my eyeballs, like someone operating a meat-puppet from the inside.
I get a very surreal feeling when I’m stressed out. It usually happens before I realize how stressed I’ve become, and one tiny little thing triggers it. I’ll just kind of float out of the here and now and view it like a neutral third party. My husband thinks I’m insane when I try to explain it to him, but it turns out it’s a pretty common reaction from people who tend to suffer from panic attacks (which I do.) I guess it’s my bodies way of protecting me and telling me, “Hey, look at it from this angle. Doesn’t seem so bad, does it?”
When I was six years old I was almost hit by car when I dashed into the street. The passenger side of the car actually glanced the front of me and pushed me back toward the curb. I fell down and like skinned the heels of my hands.
In fact, everybody thought I was hit, and all of the traffic slowed down along the boulevard. But I was okay and my mom came and dragged me back up on the sidewalk.
So I have often thought, what if I really was hit and I’m in a coma in the hospital like, right now and everything I know as my life now is just my poor ole brain rallying and not refusing to die?
Sort of like that movie, Jacob’s Ladder. Please let me tell you, when I saw that movie it really freaked me out.
Of course I am still alive and the car really did miss me. But still, weird. So yes, I do get that life is a dream feeling a lot.
Creaky, I wonder the same thing from time to time. I almost drowned in Puerto Rico when I was 9. Got caught in a rip current, both my dad and I were too inexperienced with the ocean back then (he actually tried to throw me back to shore, which probably hurt more than helped). My hysterical mom got some local surfers to go out and get me, and I recall coming to spontaneously on a surfboard, even though there was no reason for me to wake up like that. I don’t recall spitting up water much. After some research my hypothesis is that perhaps the mammalian diving reflex kept the water out of my throat as I slipped into unconsciousness. Sometimes I still wonder if I am still on that beach, with my physician dad working madly on my (mostly) lifeless body, and all this is just a fevered dream (reminds me of a Star Trek TNG episode which had Picard live out a full life with some aliens). Ah probably not…
I guess we’ll never find out, and that makes it even weirder. 
I’ve wondered something similar to this, myself. I do have dissociative-style moods/feelings occasionally.
My view: life is just too chaotic and weird for even my brain to come up with. Therefore, I’m seriously skeptical of the idea that it’s an internally-based dream or hallucination. I figure that if life is unreal, it’s something externally done, like the Matrix.
I’m another one that gets that feeling. Sometimes it seems like not only is it a dream, but I know where it’s going. Maybe it’s the whole “Blink” thing coming in to play, so I know what’s going to happen. Or maybe that’s just experience talking.
It may not matter what I think, since there could be anywhere from a 20% to 50% chance that we’re all in a computer simulation anyway: Our Lives, Controlled From Some Guy’s Couch.
Intellectually, I’ve wondered much the same thing. My daughter was born really prematurely, right on the cusp of savable. As far as I know, she’s okay, she’s growing up healthy and happy. But what if she didn’t really survive? What if I’m gibbering to myself in a padded cell somewhere, acting out this whole life as a mother to a dead baby? And posting on a message board about it and looking at pictures of her are all just part of my delusion? shivers
A number of television series’ have played with this idea. I think my favorite (of course) is “Normal Again”, part of the Buffy the Vampire Series.
Occasionally I get the “I’m dreaming” feeling when I’m driving. :eek:
I think it’s important I don’t let it get a grip of me.
I get it too. When I was a kid, it was triggered by going down the back door steps to let out the dog, but not very often. Now I get it very rarely, mostly at work. It’s a “Am I really here? Does it matter if I’m really here or not? What’s the point?”. It’s very surreal, very dreamlike.
Mostly I force myself back to reality, but I remember a few times where I tried to stretch it out and explore the feeling more, but I couldn’t keep it for more than 30 seconds or so.
ETA:
When I try to stretch out the feeling, It can be scary, like slipping into insanity or losing myself, if that makes any sense.
I’ve experienced those feelings too, detachments and realizations. I’ve started to think it’s due to my mundane, low-key lifestyle right now.
It does, my friend.
I try to do this consciously. This body is only a vehicle, a machine, maybe a spaceship; I’m on the inside looking out and I can control the vehicle as it courses through this existence. I tell it, “I’m the one that tells you what to do, you don’t tell me what to do. I’m a good master - I treat you well and don’t ask too much of you, so trust me and do what I tell you to do.”
I like to think it helps me to push my physical limits a bit, though maybe I’m just fooling myself. It’s made it easier to experience bodily discomforts as just messages from the vehicle that it needs something, rather than internalizing them. It’s also helped, as I get older, to be more practical about my body. When I was diagnosed with breast cancer, it was a breeze to decide to just have a double mastectomy - after all, the breasts were just a superfluous piece of the vehicle that I didn’t need anyway.
Bibby