My uncle had PTSD. WWII blew him to pieces. Not physically, but mentally. He was unceremoniously removed from his home, his three children (my cousins) and my aunt for their safety, and dumped into a 'facility for people like that'. No name was given to what he suffered from. He died alone after decades of being locked away. Things have changed in many ways.
I think the idea of this posting (the spirit in which it was created) was to screw reality. Attach to what would help us. Really help us. Even if just a dream..... because dreams help us in day to day life. My various therapists taught me that. And for me it works. For others it might not.
And let's hope that future generations may live an easier life than we do because we fought to have our needs understood. But first, I think, we have to understand our needs ourselves. Dare to dream....
Here's to a better life.... cheers!