Problem Solvers

jamais vu

In psychology, jamais vu, a French loanword meaning "never seen", is the phenomenon of experiencing a situation that one recognizes in some fashion, but that nonetheless seems novel and unfamiliar.

"My brother had a growth spurt," Vanya announced.

Her new therapist smiled indulgently. "Oh? Which brother?" The woman glanced at her notes. "You have four of them."

Therapy was one of those things that was hit or miss. Vanya knew that. She also knew that a lot of people believed its benefits were more of a placebo effect: if the patient believed therapy would help them, then it helped them. If they had a negative mind set, it usually wouldn't help them.

Vanya did a lot of research on the topic to try and get Five to try it out. If the facts were on her side, she'd thought, then Five would be too.

But then it turned out the facts were still undecided.

"Five," Vanya said.

"Ah, Five the favorite," the therapist said.

Vanya winced. "Please don't call him that."

It was true that Five was her favorite, but it was embarrassing to hear it said out loud like that.

"My bad," the woman chuckled light heartedly. "So he's taller?"

"He still looks like a teenager," Vanya said. "But... he's a really tall teenager."

"Alright," the therapist said.

"It's really weird," Vanya said. "Um... I mean, I already told you that he's older than he looks."

This was not the first therapist Vanya had worked with. It wasn't even the second. Still, she felt like she was a bit rusty with this whole therapy thing. It had been a few years since she'd... since she'd needed something like this.

"I remember," the therapist said. "You said he was an old man trapped in the body of a thirteen year old boy?"

"Yeah," Vanya said. "But now he looks like a fifteen year old boy?"

The therapist nodded. "Was it an unexpected growth spurt?"

"He said he invented a growth serum," Vanya said. "He said he wanted to look old enough to drive, so the cops would stop pulling him over."

"Good for him!" the woman crooned. "It's important to... to follow the law."

"Huh?" Vanya said. 

"Did he get a drivers license?" the therapist said. "Did he pass driver's ed?"

"Oh," Vanya said. "I have no idea."

Vanya frowned, wondering how Five had learned how to drive in the first place.

The therapist nodded, still smiling that indulgent smile of hers. Like she was humoring a little kid who was bragging about a favored toy.

Vanya cleared her throat. "So... on Sunday it was just the two of us. Me and Five, I mean. He drove me to a movie theater."

"You spend a lot of time with Five, if I remember correctly," the therapist said. "Tuesdays and Fridays, every week, I think you said."

"Well, yeah but." Vanya scratched her cheek. "That's different. That's for training."

"So this weekend felt more special?"

"I mean... yes? I thought it was special," Vanya said.

"You sound uncertain," the therapist said.