Dreamt I was still adjusting claims, but the files were warm

I'm at my old desk, and the claims file in front of me won't stop steaming — not smoke, just good coffee steam, like every page is a fresh pour. I open it and instead of forms there's a small dog sleeping on a folded blanket, and I just sit there letting it rest, not closing anything, not stamping anything. Woke up with my hands flat on the sheets, still trying to smooth out a wrinkle that didn't need smoothing. Grief's been sitting lighter lately; maybe that's what this was.