When you blink to on a bus.
And the scenery outside doesn't immediately make sense. And the bus layout inside doesn't immediately make sense. And the other passengers are all Asian, but the wrong kind of Asian, so that doesn't immediately make sense. And so you have to wait several minutes in traffic you can't see for the bus to move, to find more contextual clues about where you are, so you can figure out when you are. Which also includes running a complete "flex everything and make sure it's all there and nothing hurts" inventory.
Ah so. Okay. It's 15 minutes later than it was, and we're in Korea town, headed towards Little Ethiopia. In the same city you were in before, on the same day. And breathe. And close your eyes again and listen to the wrong language on the bus. It wasn't a dream. And you didn't lose -a lot- of time. And you don't have a sudden kaleidoscope of memories between where you thought you were and where you are now, or worse, nothing but a wall of blankness. It's just like waking up in yet another hotel room, and not immediately placing where you are and how you got there. It's nothing to be concerned about. Just a misplaced moment. Just a normal day. Just a bus. Just a city.