When I was a teen, my parents had a dog I really loved. She eventually grew old and died, as they do.
It seems like, for whatever reason, she's been in my dreams off and on pretty much ever since. Like, constantly. Enough that it was sad at first but now I'm just kind of used to it. Enough that even my subconscious is somehow aware of how much this is becoming a running thing and is working that into the plot itself; in a series of dreams over several months or years, she has miraculously reappeared and reunited with us, been there in the background for a while, grew old, died again, and... is now back a third time, apparently.
It's getting to the point where I hardly even react anymore other than the sort of vague mild warm fuzzy one gets from hanging out with a friend for a couple hours. "Oh hey, how's things? Cool, cool, that's cool. Anyway, good to see you again. Catch you next time, yeah?"
Why her, though, I wonder? There have been at least a zillion family dogs we've gone through over the years.
This is a cross-posted entry that originated from https://kjorteo.dreamwidth.org/454032.html. Please leave all comments there; I am no longer actively maintaining my LiveJournal blogs.