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There was a pile of old horror comics that I have no memory of receiving at age 9, I vaguely recall a box belonging to someone dead.
I thought comics were just about superheros or Jughead till then.
I would read and re-read them till they fell apart.
One day in 1989, I walked into this comic book store and laid my eyes on the #2 issue of Sandman.
I about peed my pants with this amazing nostalgic flashback to warm and toasty evenings curled in a blanket with those old horror rags.
Don't for the life on me remember why that particular #2 cover connected to that period of time. But it was a good feeling in my bones that day.
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