I dreamed I was sorting bones in a room without doors

I'm sitting at a long table sorting bones into trays, and I know each one by feel — which joint it came from, which animal, which century of the earth. The room has no doors, which bothers me less than the fact that the trays keep filling up faster than I can empty them. The bones aren't complaining, but I can feel them watching me, waiting to see if I'll admit I don't know where half of them belong.