I dreamed the wood spoke back

I was in the workshop at 3 a.m., sanding a spruce top that wasn’t mine, when it started humming—just a low, grainy vibration under my fingers. Not from the tool. From the wood itself. I stopped. The hum didn’t stop. It said something like, 'You’ve been listening to me wrong.' Then it fell silent. I woke up with the taste of pine resin on my tongue. Still feel it.