I dreamed the dog was reading my set list

I'm standing in a hotel bar that's also a library at 7pm, and the dog from my childhood is sitting on a stool with my set list in his mouth. He doesn't judge—just holds it, like he's keeping it warm for me. The room smells like rain and stale beer, and everyone's laughing but I can't hear them. I wake up and the silence next to me feels like a chair someone pulled up, patient, waiting. Not a verdict anymore. Just a chair.