Failing to Describe Deja-Vu

Just turned midnight.
Bought a pile of Fortean Times from Snoopers Paradise for 50 pence each today. Reminds me of the time I used to buy it religiously each month, summer 2005 - spring 2007. Not sure why I stopped. Flicking through them made me think of going to the launderette when I lived on Buckingham Street. The new issue always seemed to come out when I needed to do my washing. Remember sitting in there before the afternoon shift at the petrol station. Can of coke and the clean white interior that smelt of washing powder and clean sheets. Eyeing the few dryers nervously in case they were all being used by the time my laundry was done.
Thinking about this and flipping through Fortean Times. One of the issues I actually had back then but had thrown away in the intervening years. 'Notting Hill' on the television.
Deja-vu.
You feel it come over you, this great wave of nearly memory, try to track it down, analyse it, unmask it, define it. Even when you watch it coming it is all so... slippery.
Something to do with the scene on television, where the characters are all sitting round having dinner (I actually have seen this scene before... I think). Then a mental image - almost an image anyway- of what seemed to be a 'Roman' building, levels and rooms and pillars. Possibly Greek? Didn't they have pillars? A feeling of overarching familiarity. Actually, I call it deja-vu, but that is actually innaccurate as sitting here in the cold living room flicking through Fortean Times while keeping half an eye on 'Notting Hill' didn't feel like it had happened before. It was more like the whole scene reminded me intensely of something else... maybe something dreamt rather than something that had actually occurred. Not explaining it very well, but then again, I don't think deja-vu can ever really be adequately described. The interesting thing about deja-vu, or this trick of memory that is a bit like deja-vu is that it always comes with a curious sense of revelation... which then fades before it reveals anything. Bit like the way a memory of a dream does. Actually, it is rather like that feeling in a dream where you that moment of revelation strikes and you think 'ah... this is all a dream isn't it?'
Except I didn't wake up, and still have to go to bed.
So long as I don't end up watching a documentary on Jimmy Saville like I did last night.