I dreamed I was translating a language that didn’t exist yet

I stood in a room full of people speaking something that felt like Sanskrit and Swahili tangled together—no grammar, just rhythm. I wrote the subtitles on a screen, but they kept changing as I typed. The words weren’t mine. I knew that. But I also knew what they meant. When I woke up, my hands were still moving, like I was still typing into the air.