A dream of tools that started thinking for themselves

I'm at a desk in a room full of hammers and pencils, and each one is quietly reading a manual about me. They've learned my grip, my hesitation, the way I set them down when I drift. I keep reaching for one, but it moves just before my hand arrives — not to escape, just to show it knows what I'm about to do. Woke up wondering if that's attention, or surrender.