Most people have experienced déjà vécu. Mine is usually of the simple variety; a word, a phrase, a look, an event seen from the bus window … that feeling of sitting somewhere and my senses being flooded by the disorientation of ‘knowing’ that whatever I just said/did was something I’ve said/did in a previous moment of time.
Just recently (in the last few weeks) it seems to have become more pronounced.
Myself and The Blokey were sitting enjoying a brand new never before shown episode of a brand new never before shown series of Antiques Roadshow (‘cos we rocks, innit) one Sunday tea-time and I knew – I really really knew – that I had seen that particular episode before. I knew which items were being valuated and the people to whom they belonged. This spooked me so much that I was pretty adamant it must have been on before. I spent a fair few minutes trying to find out if the show had already been aired, or if clips had been shown elsewhere.
I put it out of my head.
We watched Antiques Roadshow again this Sunday just past and I had the same feeling of déjà vécu, albeit on a lesser scale (I ‘knew’ less about the items and their owners.)
No biggie.
However, this morning I had the Biggest Biggie of them all. Last week I had seen on the tellybox a news item about a woman dying in her bungalow. I knew that she was elderly and I knew the name of the road she lived in. It had happened. This morning the very same news report was on the tellybox.
I did not shit my pants, but did give Google a good battering.
I know there’s a rational explanation, some glitch in the Matrix so-to-speak; I know that it’s simply my mind cramming everything in and creating some sort of false memory (if I can dream a whole day’s events in the time it takes between grouchily hitting my alarm off and the snooze piercing my brain, then my mind is surely capable of making me think I’ve already experienced something, even though I haven’t yet experienced it, even though I have … ), but there’s something spookily romantic about thinking I’ve experienced things that haven’t happened yet, even if I won’t know I’ve experienced them until I really experience them …
Of course, last night’s dream about Derren Brown (he held my hand as we crossed a road, and then chatted to me about personal things) also spooked me, but to a lesser extent. And it was a much more enjoyable feeling of spooky.
It also left me with a heavy heart full of paranoia! Tsk. If I end up on the tellybox …
