Have you ever experienced Déjà vu? A sense of reliving a certain situation, revisiting a familiar place, or sensing a familiar sensation? It’s certainly not uncommon, and a vast majority of the world’s population has likely experienced it at least once. Theories surrounding the phenomenon range from scientific explanations, such as being subject to the same sensory experience twice successively, to rather less credible explanations, such as time travel and parallel universes. Unfortunately, none of these theories are correct.
Since I was born, I have had an unusual condition. They call it ‘Confabulation.’ To simplify it, it means that, in addition to my ‘regular’ memories, I also possess completely fabricated memories. I don’t know how these memories are formed, nor do I know why, but it is often impossible to distinguish between fact and fiction. My entire life, my entire past, could be a mere figment of my imagination without me even knowing it.
Thankfully, I have lived a relatively normal life in spite of this. By utilizing practices usually reserved for sufferers of short-term amnesia, I can make sure that I know basic truth from lies. When I wake up, I check my bedside whiteboard, which I use to write down recent events, developments, and schedules. Sometimes I’ll also read my journal, although constantly trying to repress and isolate false memories is often futile.
I live a simple life. During the week I work at a small cafe located deep in the innards of an urban jungle of concrete and brick. I like where I work, nestled underneath a sushi bar and hidden from the world, it’s easier to make connections with regular patrons. Even if I forget their faces or names, most know of my condition and quickly bring me up to speed.
The only oddity in my life is the aforementioned events of Déjà vu I sometimes experience. When cannot even trust your own perception of the past, the odd feeling of unfamiliar familiarity is nothing less than terrifying.
I often experienced Déjà vu on the way to, or from, work. The dimly lit narrow streets, combined with an often eerie silence, made the walk both peaceful and unsettling. More notably, although I always knew the route back, I could never quite remember the scenery. Even if I had just arrived at work, the exact details of the trip down were almost completely lost to me.
Last week, the cafe closed unusually late. Upon the request of a small group of customers, closing time was delayed for just over an hour to allow them to wrap up their board game without issue. Of course, they tipped generously, so neither the boss nor I had much of an issue with it. As they left, I was handed the keys to lock up after I had cleaned everything up, and about half an hour afterward I was making my way back home.
It only took a few minutes for the sensation to hit. Déjà vu.
I looked around, an overwhelming sense of familiarity yet coldness washing over me. I looked around, a moment passing before I realized that I could not recognize my surroundings. I turned slowly, looking for anything which could orient me, yet nothing presented itself. I felt a flair of panic begin before I reeled myself back towards reason.
I’m on my way home from work. Reasonably, I couldn’t be far from my house or an area which I knew. All I had to do was pick a direction and walk. Checking my dead phone to no avail, I did exactly that.
A few minutes passed as I traversed the grey terrain, my head swiveling constantly in the hopes of seeing a sign, person, or anything which could offer a solution. The dim street lights accompanied me on my route, guiding my path and illuminating the tight alleys which characterized the urban sprawl which I called home. As I walked, however, I began to notice something odd.
Every single door was barred with a metal gate, separating the door from the street in front of it. Although not necessarily rare, I thought it odd that every door would have one. As I looked around, I noticed that the windows were adorned with the same level of protection. How odd.
A wave of pain filled my head, accompanied by nausea. For a moment I thought I might throw up, but the feeling passed almost as quickly as it came. I stopped to lean against a lampost, taking a swig as I caught my breath. The uneasy feeling, however, remained. Regardless, there was no point in staying idle, and I didn’t want to miss out on too much sleep, so I forged onwards through the ever-darkening abyss of the metropolitan shadow I find myself covered in.
Eventually, I came across a railway, suspended leagues above me by pillars of steel and concrete. I looked up, trying to work out where the next station was located, and to my immense relief, I saw a dimly illuminated station a few blocks to my right. With revived vigor, I started to walk towards what I hoped would be my salvation.
My anticipation was not bet with a revelation, however, but instead confusion. I stared at the blank timetable in front of me with widened eyes. Blank. It was all blank. The station sign, the timetables, hell even the warnings lacked any text to accompany the images. Blank, all blank, and once more my head violently spiraled into pain, this time for a few seconds longer than the previous bout.
No, calm down. Think it out… pranksters? Renovations or something? There had to be…
As my gaze climbed the fountain in front of the station, another feeling of Déjà vu wriggled its way into my head. Had I been here before? It seemed familiar, and as I walked toward the marbled feature I had the feeling that I was closer to home than I thought. A narrow street caught me, pulling me towards it without any rhyme or reason, and before I had even thought it through I found myself walking down it.
It must have been another 15 or 20 minutes before I finally reached a large apartment building that I recognized as my own. Relief washed over me, and I almost sprinted up the stairs towards safety, a nice warm bed. I took a swig of water as my familiar door greeted me, waiting so long for me to return home. Taking out my key, I unlocked the door and opened it.
Nothing. Blankness. Where was my stuff? Everything was gone, my furniture, TV, and even my cat weren’t inside. Had I been robbed?
I stumbled backward as another headache brought me to my knees. Shit, I need… to get help, no way am I handling this on my own. With slight trepidation, I rasped my knuckles on my neighbor’s door. Once. Twice. A dozen times and still no answer. With a combination of fear, annoyance, and impatience I turned the handle and opened the door, much to my surprise.
Blank. It’s all blank. Nothing, nobody, not a sign of habitation nor life. I tried every apartment, dozens of doors, but they’re just… blank. Voids of space, the warmth sucked from them and replaced with the kind of white nothingness that brings unease.
In a daze, I tried the neighboring buildings. Nothing. Everything is blank. I’ve realized that this entire time I’ve not seen a single car, street sign, or anything that would indicate that humans live here. I’m alone, in an empty world with no explanation. That’s not the part that scares me though.
I keep getting that damned feeling. Déjà vu, a sense of unreasonable and unknown familiarity that should not be present. It’s getting more common now, and the headaches are getting worse.
There’s only one good thing, the power still works. It didn’t take long until my phone was charged enough to turn on and work, and I have access to the internet… I think? Nothing has come up from my research into what’s going on, and every direct message I send simply doesn’t go through or gets rejected. Still, I think I can get through to someone if I try a more indirect method.
Please. Help me. I… I’m starting to forget. I’m alone, I just want to know where I am. I can’t remember where I came from, who… who am I?