Around 12 years ago or so, I drew up plans to open a restaurant in Manhattan. I still believe it would have been a great success! As we approached the closing, our first investor pulled out; then, spooked, the other investors all pulled out. Till it was just me. I folded my metaphorical tent and gave up.
In my dreams, I still see it. I know what the place would have looked like. I know how the food would have tasted.
Some of my bios online still describe me as a novelist and restaurateur. (Among the notable accomplishments of that time, I learned to spell restaurateur. It is counter-intuitive.)
In that other universe, where I opened my restaurant, I think I would have had years and years of great food, fun, music, followed by horrible panic in 2020.
It would still have been worth it, I think.