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The first time I watched an episode of the Showtime mas­ter­piece “Twin Peaks,” I sat on my favorite arm­chair with a bowl of ice cream in my hands, a little too much on my mind, and no com­pre­hension of what lay in store.

The first two seasons of “Twin Peaks,” directed by David Lynch, aired between 1990 and 1991. Although the ratings dropped during the second season and the show dis­con­tinued, the quirky, haunting series, a who­dunit set in a quaint North­western town, picked up a large cult fol­lowing. It has been ref­er­enced in pop culture, from tele­vision shows like “Scooby Doo” and “The X‑Files” to music, as in Bastille’s song “Laura Palmer.”

Much to fans’ delight, Showtime announced in October 2014 that “Twin Peaks” would return, sig­nif­i­cantly, 25 years after the last episode aired.

For me, this was huge news. “Twin Peaks” has influ­enced me more than any other tele­vision show. But to say why this zany show fea­turing a bud­dhist FBI agent, a cocaine-addicted, post-mortem home­coming queen, and a host of other odd and some­times incom­pre­hen­sible char­acters could mean so much to a 17-year-old boy is dif­ficult. Maybe it was the dreamlike music and sound­scapes, the heart-racing who­dunit detective story, or the eerie charm of the small north­western town of Twin Peaks.

Maybe I loved Twin Peaks, espe­cially the reboot, because of the char­acters. In each char­acter I saw a part of myself. As the story develops, the char­acters are revealed to be more than they seem, each with their own skeletons in the closet, their own hopes and dreams, secrets and unspoken desires.

Nothing in Twin Peaks is ever certain: even the inherent super­natural and spir­itual under­tones leave the audience won­dering, “Is this for real?” Because to truly appre­ciate Twin Peaks, you must look past your own under­standing of con­ven­tional, rational sto­ry­telling in exchange for Lynch’s irra­tional, dreamlike, sur­re­alist nar­rative of good and evil, of humankind’s inter­action with the spir­itual world, and of each person’s expe­rience with the great moun­tains of life.

Lynch’s heroes are not mus­cular type A’s with lead­ership qual­ities and a 4.0 GPA. Lynch’s heroes are normal people exposed to a wholly abnormal life, who do their best because, like all humans, they are always seeking truth. They, like all of us, are looking for the truth about them­selves, about the people around them, about spir­i­tu­ality and the super­natural, about life and human society.

I asked Assistant Pro­fessor of Psy­chology Collin Barnes why stu­dents should care about Twin Peaks. His response gave me a new per­spective on the show.

“There are expe­ri­ences that defy rational expla­nation; they become under­standable to us because we have hearts and know some­thing of the dream world. By them we encounter the wonders and terrors within us from which we hope, after much toil, to emerge more fully formed,” Barnes said. “But this par­ticular offering is not for everyone. Some, in fact, might be harmed by it — deformed instead of formed. Lynch is showing us some­thing important, but also devouring. For this reason I cannot hold it out as a rec­om­men­dation for all, but perhaps I could for one or a few I per­sonally knew.”

Dr. Barnes is right that Twin Peaks isn’t for everyone. The beau­tiful, surreal Twin Peaks of the ’90s, and the night­marish, gritty Twin Peaks of 2017 offer some­thing that most shows don’t. They ask us the question: “What don’t you know about yourself and the people around you?” For some of us, the answer is unde­sirable or hard to discern. But by all means, if you are pre­pared, give the show a go. “Twin Peaks” is bound to give you a new per­spective on yourself and the intri­cacies of the human beings around you.