I had a dream. A dream that I slow danced on the Brooklyn Bridge with the love of my life. That I wore a ball gown in Times Square that glistened in the lights. That I stayed in the most breath-taking suite fit for a princess that was set inside a snow globe.
I had a dream that I shopped at Tiffany's, dressed in vintage Hepburn attire, and left with the most beautiful color turquoise blue you've ever seen. That I lived in a world where no detail was missed.
I was surrounded by friends and an abundance of love. I smelled white roses, and we all drank Dom Perignon, and were dressed to the nines. I had a little story book that magically updated itself with the sweetest sentiments from friends and family near and far.
I danced the night away, embraced forty, and left my mark on a great big city with a little sprinkling of champagne-colored sequins and tears. I dreamt it was all captured to be preserved forever.
Then I remembered, it wasn't a dream.
It was real.