In my head the world is perfect. Mr 1987 comes up with me after dinner and in my slinky black dress in my suave little loft, I offer him a glass of wine. We laugh, he makes like he is going to wash the glasses and kisses me against the counter.

All my friends are happy and I am able to just bask alongside with them in our mutual joy. I no longer have to fight the inner fight, the realization that I cannot do anything for them. That they have to fight their battles too.

I think the biggest fights I have with myself is learning to know when I can and cannot help fight their battles.

Then I wake up.