Infinity Now: Endless Déjà Vu Experience

In this episode we journey through the strange terrain of persistent déjà vu—the case of a 23-year-old British man whose life was overtaken by the feeling that every moment had already happened. From his early anxieties, through the medical investigations that turned up nothing though his suffering was very real, to the theories that may explain why déjà vu generally—and why his became an endless loop. What is memory, what is identity, when the “now” always feels like the “before”? Listen in for a story that will make you question what’s real—and what’s remembered. Then we chat with Comedian Jonathan Burns. Did you know The Internet Says It’s True is now a book? Get it here: https://amzn.to/4miqLNy

Most of us have experienced déjà vu at least once—maybe walking down a street and feeling like you’ve been there before, or meeting someone and sensing you’ve spoken to them in this exact way. Psychologists estimate that up to 70% of people report at least one episode in their lifetime. But while brief déjà vu is common, persistent, life-disrupting déjà vu is almost unheard of.

Historically, déjà vu has fascinated thinkers and writers for centuries. The term itself is French for “already seen,” first used in the 19th century by Émile Boirac, a French philosopher who studied psychic phenomena. Sigmund Freud wrote about déjà vu in 1914, theorizing it as a manifestation of repressed desires, though today his psychoanalytic interpretation has largely fallen out of favor. Modern science has explored it from multiple angles—neurology, cognitive psychology, and even virtual reality experiments—to try to explain why our brains sometimes trick us into believing we’re reliving moments.

Pop culture loves it too. Think of Groundhog Day, where Bill Murray wakes up to the same day over and over, or The Matrix, where déjà vu signals a glitch in reality. In these fictional depictions, déjà vu is often exaggerated for effect, but in real life, for one young man in the UK, it became far more literal—and far more unsettling.

In 2007, a 23-year-old British man began experiencing what he described as “a loop he couldn’t escape.” Initially, it was fleeting: a feeling that a particular conversation, a café, or even a TV show had happened before. But over months, these sensations intensified, lasting longer and intruding on his ability to focus or function normally.

He had always struggled with anxiety, specifically around contamination. Handwashing was frequent, showers were repeated, and breaks from his studies became more common as his mental health fluctuated. These stressors coincided with the onset of his persistent déjà vu, suggesting that psychological factors might be contributing to his condition.

Doctors performed standard neurological tests—EEGs, MRIs, and cognitive assessments. Everything came back normal. No seizure activity, no structural brain abnormalities, and intact recognition memory. Yet he continued to experience repeated, intrusive sensations that the world around him had already happened.

Researchers termed his condition “persistent psychogenic déjà vu”, marking it as a psychological phenomenon rather than a neurological one—a rare distinction in the literature. While most studies focus on short-lived déjà vu, this case became a key example for understanding how anxiety, memory, and perception intersect.

Imagine living each day convinced that the events unfolding are repetitions of what has already happened. For this man, it meant taking the same route to the store, pausing because a familiar interaction felt like a rerun, or hesitating mid-conversation because he was unsure if he had already said these exact words.

Friends noticed changes. Social interactions became awkward; he sometimes apologized for things he didn’t remember doing, fearing he had already committed them. Academic performance suffered, as he struggled to keep assignments straight and remember whether he had attended lectures. The compulsion to retrace steps, check doors, and repeat routines increased, exacerbating the cycle.

The repeated déjà vu was not a hallucination—he remained aware that it wasn’t reality repeating—but it was exhausting and disorienting. This awareness, ironically, made the episodes worse. Every time he recognized the sensation, he would analyze it, creating a feedback loop that reinforced the experience.

After months of struggling with persistent déjà vu, the young man underwent more specialized assessments. Psychologists and psychiatrists collaborated to evaluate him using structured interviews, memory tests, and anxiety inventories. They wanted to understand not just what was happening in his brain, but how his mind processed the passage of time and familiar experiences.

One striking finding was that while his objective memory remained intact, his subjective sense of familiarity was massively exaggerated. In other words, he could recall that he had never actually performed certain actions or had certain conversations, yet his mind insisted that these events were happening again. This discrepancy is a hallmark of psychogenic déjà vu, where perception of repetition overrides factual memory.

Therapists tried a variety of techniques, including cognitive-behavioral therapy (CBT) to address anxiety and obsessive-compulsive patterns. They worked on mindfulness exercises, attempting to ground him in the present moment and reduce the feedback loop of recognition. Progress was slow; each time he thought he was “resetting” his perception, a new trigger—often mundane, like a familiar street corner or a phrase someone used—would spiral him back into the same looping sensation.

Pharmacological interventions were limited. SSRIs, often used to reduce anxiety and obsessive behaviors, were considered, but their effect on persistent psychogenic déjà vu is largely unknown. Doctors emphasized that treatment focused on coping strategies and awareness, rather than eliminating the experience entirely. This case highlighted the difficulty of addressing a condition that is at once neurological in sensation, yet psychological in origin.

Though rare, persistent déjà vu has been documented in a few other individuals, often linked to epilepsy or brain trauma. The difference in this British man’s case was that it was purely psychogenic, meaning it stemmed from psychological rather than neurological causes. In one study, a man with temporal lobe epilepsy reported recurring déjà vu that lasted seconds to minutes, triggered by specific electrical activity in the brain. Our case, by contrast, had no measurable brain abnormalities and lasted hours, sometimes longer, demonstrating a fundamentally different mechanism.

Other documented psychogenic cases involve extreme stress or anxiety. One Japanese study described a patient who, after a traumatic incident, experienced persistent déjà vu when confronted with triggers reminiscent of the trauma. Unlike memory-based déjà vu, these experiences were tied not to factual recall but to emotional and perceptual patterns in the mind.

This comparison highlighted an important insight: déjà vu is not a single phenomenon. Short-term déjà vu—the fleeting, familiar feeling most people experience—is neurologically normal. Persistent psychogenic déjà vu, however, reveals the mind’s capacity to simulate temporal repetition when anxiety, obsessive thinking, or heightened emotional states intervene. The British man’s experience became a textbook example for psychologists studying the interaction between perception, memory, and mental health.

Cases like this force us to confront something profound: memory and perception are not infallible. Even with an intact brain, our minds can create loops of familiarity so convincing that reality feels distorted. The British man’s story illustrates how anxiety and obsessive tendencies can amplify these loops, demonstrating the intricate interplay between emotion, cognition, and consciousness.

Philosophers have long debated the nature of time and memory. French philosopher Henri Bergson argued that human consciousness is not just a linear stream of moments, but a layered experience where past and present intermingle. In the man’s case, this layering became painfully literal. Each moment carried echoes of itself so strong that distinguishing past from present required constant effort.

In some ways, this experience mirrors the fictional Groundhog Day, but with one critical difference: it wasn’t a plot device; it was a lived psychological reality. Every step, every conversation, every routine became a terrain where memory and perception collided. He could not “wake up” to a new day; the loop existed internally, in the mind’s processing of time and familiarity.

Life continued, punctuated by repeated sensations. His daily routines became carefully structured. He avoided unfamiliar places, fearing that new stimuli might trigger another wave of déjà vu. Yet, paradoxically, the familiar was often the most triggering. Ordinary events—a friend’s greeting, a café visit, or a news broadcast—could spiral him into hours of disorientation.

Therapists encouraged journaling, mindfulness, and reality-checking techniques. For example, he was taught to deliberately note details about his environment, reinforcing the present moment. Some success came through repetition of this practice: by cataloging experiences as they occurred, he could begin to differentiate actual repetition from perceived repetition.

Still, full resolution remained elusive. Psychologists stress that persistent psychogenic déjà vu is not simply “fixed” with medication or therapy; it is a dynamic condition that interacts with personality, cognition, and stress levels. The man’s case became a window into the challenges of living with a mind that continuously questions its own timeline.

Why does this case matter beyond the individual? For scientists, it underscores the complexity of memory. While we often assume that memory is a reliable record of the past, persistent psychogenic déjà vu reveals that the brain can convincingly simulate repetition, independent of factual memory. For psychologists, it highlights the impact of anxiety and obsessive tendencies on perception. And for philosophers and storytellers, it raises questions about subjective reality: how do we know the present is truly “now”?

Pop culture frequently explores similar themes. Movies like Edge of Tomorrow and books like Replay imagine lives caught in loops, often for dramatic or comedic effect. The British man’s reality, however, was not narrative—it was experiential. Researchers hope that studying such cases can illuminate how the brain constructs time, how anxiety shapes perception, and how reality itself is interpreted by the human mind.

Ultimately, this case demonstrates the astonishing capabilities—and vulnerabilities—of the human mind. It challenges us to reconsider our assumptions about memory, perception, and the linearity of experience. While fleeting déjà vu is a normal, even charming quirk of human cognition, persistent psychogenic déjà vu is a reminder of how fragile our sense of reality can be when psychological factors overwhelm perception.

The British man’s journey is both cautionary and illuminating. It underscores the need for empathy, awareness, and scientific inquiry into rare psychological phenomena. Though the specifics of his later life remain largely unreported, his story has informed research, therapy, and public understanding of déjà vu.

So next time you feel a fleeting sense of familiarity, remember: for some, the loop isn’t brief—it can last hours, days, or even longer. And for one young man in the UK, it became a defining feature of his life.

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