I am trying to wear a big, long, blue, heavy fabric(ed) thing that fits over my shoulders like a mantel.
I try to flip it non-chalantly over one shoulder.
My therapist has a similar thing I can have, she says.  A burgundy coat with an asymetric collar weighted to one side.  She looks nice in it but I doubt I will.

There are preparations for dinner.  I have glasses out for everyone.  Wine and one or two with wine and lots of cheese.  No one picks them  up so I bring them along to the restaurant where we will have our celebratory meal.  Rainer is there and Reinhard and Emily and my mom and I guess that's it.  Our table is tiny, tiny - an alcove with a ceiling over our heads the size of our table and pressing at the top of our heads.

We are in Paris, or somewhere.  A neighborhood we should have researched first as (as with London 2012) it is WAY to expensive for us.  Anyway.  I am very claustrophobic and ask to sit on the outside.