the line crossed that no one knew was drawn

so I sit in class, last semester of my senior year, and listen to Eastern philosophy being taught to me.  I feel this unforgiving sense of a lack of reality...
-This World
-This Body
-with These Senses and These Experiences

I find myself reverting back to a childlike state of delusion where my imagination constitutes my whole reality.  It's as if I'm stuck in a lower level metaphysics class- daydreaming about hallucinogens and any experience that doesn't feel like This. 

"Awaken to the true nature of the self,"  the professor says...

Somehow this quote penetrates my dream, whirling about in the air in front of me and then sinking deep into the crevasses of my subconscious.  In any case, I assure myself that I am always the creator and the discoverer of my life.  The existence of my Being pours out in front of me like a set of watercolors overly saturated with water onto a clean white piece of paper.  I dissolve into internal dissolution.  I am not 'here' or 'there' but when I walk in the streets I still stop at red lights as to not get run over.

I look in the mirror but I don't see myself, rather, I imagine myself as a blob of being- amorphous, defined by a language that I often have a hard time relating to. 

I'm back in my class, the teacher has continued talking without ever noticing my mental distance.  I immediately begin to scribble down a 'To-Do' list of things I should do but probably won't.  I see my hand write but don't recognize the handwriting. It's ok though.  This kind of disconnect is almost refreshing.  I felt as though I drew a line in the scope of reality and then crossed it, leaving behind any sort of intentionality. 

In the end I was still in class, sitting in the same chair, next to the same people, with a notebook full of bizarre drawings.