I dreamed the rooftops were all the same color until I looked closer

I'm floating over a city where every roof is the same pale blue — but as I drift down, I see each one is a different temperature of blue: one's the blue of a vein, one's the blue of a crayon stub, one's the blue of a screen at 3am. I'm trying to paint them all before I wake, and my brush keeps splitting into more brushes. Then a dog on a balcony looks at me and I know immediately, from his shoulders, that he's not judging my work, just my posture.