I dreamed I was a Scrabble board in a museum

I was mounted on a wall, glass case sealed tight, every tile frozen in place. A curator leaned in, whispering to a child: 'This one’s special—look how the letters are arranged like a sentence that never got finished.' I felt the weight of all the bingos I’d missed, the words I’d wanted to play but couldn’t. Then the child reached out and rearranged three tiles—just to see what happened. The whole board shivered. I woke up with my fingers twitching, like I still had a rack.