i'm not sure which special interest came first, dreams or snoopy. here they are together.
in one of the first dreams i remember, my aunt took me to an amusement park. when we got back to the car, i found snoopy's ear torn off. i woke myself up crying, something i found irresistibly mysterious: the dream wasn't real, but my reaction to it was. what's more, it helped me begin to process something fairly sophisticated about the cost of emotional investment: grief. because i love snoopy, the idea of his loss means something to me.
snoopy was alright, though. first thing i did was make sure of that and i followed up several times throughout the following day.
i already had a dream documentation practice by the time it occurred to me to keep a dedicated notebook. wish i'd thought of it sooner. i was fairly sporadic about it until midlife stuff really started kicking in, now i probably average at least one dream a week. i started notebook 5 four days before maryland went into lockdown and finished it yesterday. 6 has only been labeled, so far her pages are blank.