Occurs during or after watching one of the works of Filmmaker David Lynch, when the astutley observed, nightmarish portrayal of the true nature of the human condition causes such a level of identification with the protagonist(s), that one suffers their fate and (either momentarily or on a prolonged, recurrent basis) begins to question the reality of his or her surroundings, relationships, actions and the time-space continuum itself.
I watched Inland Empire the other day, the room 47 scene spun me into a Lynchian Head Fuck.
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