As others have said, you're sleep deprived. 18 or so years ago, I had a long, shitty commute in heavy urban traffic - 30 miles each way. Had a couple projects going at that time where the deadlines overlapped, I was putting in 70 hours weeks for about a month and a half, lots of kids activities and we were dealing with a teenage daughter in meltdown crisis after meltdown crisis. In short, midlife hell. I didn't know what to call it - never even thought about discussing it at the time, but yes I had shit crop up and startle me in my peripheral vision. I attributed it to stress at the time, because it only seemed to happen when I was driving. Not when I was at work with my mind full and active, but rather when it was idle or able to freewheel a bit is when I experienced them.
I progressed (regressed?) to the point I was imagining some other stuff too - like I'd refer to some conversation I thought I'd had with my wife, only she had zero recollection of it. That happened 3 or 4 times to where she thought I should go see a doctor. But what really woke me up was when I'd drive to work - or home from it - and have zero recollection of having done so. I'd literally get in my truck and close the garage door, and an hour or so later I'd all of a sudden be sitting at my desk working. Absolutely zero recollection of having completed a 30 mile commute on a 4 lane interstate parking lot. That happened a few times - scared me to death. So I saw a neurologist (got me in, tested and "diagnosed" within 2 weeks - imagine that today), had my brain MRI'ed and low and behold: Nothing.
Work slowed down, all that bad shit stopped happening and things got better. Well we still had angsty teenage daughter meltdown shit going on, but everything else smoothed out. I'm so glad teenagers didn't have all the technology and social media crap of today back then, or quite possibly it might have put me over the top.
But I was today years old when I learned I was having peripheral hallucinations back in the day - thanks for sharing that and helping me fill in a missing puzzle piece!
Now get some fucking sleep, faggot!
You know that ain't in the cards, gramps. As fruitless an endeavor as teaching a nigger how and why you put $4.74 and 7/10 postage on some magazines for the little one.
True that. Probably best that you scare off those peripheral beings though - kind of like putting the fear of the white man - err... duck - in the nogette...
Well they aren't scared of coffee, and I doubt excessive postal code knowledge will do the trick. Maybe I'll try keeping a clove of garlic in my pocket.