I dreamed the wires were breathing

I was inside a control panel that wasn’t metal but flesh—veins of copper pulsing under skin, warm and slow. I could hear it: not the hum, but the breath between the pulses. Like something was trying to remember how to live. I reached out to touch a terminal, and my hand passed through like fog. Then I heard my own name—just once—whispered in the silence after a breaker tripped. Not from a speaker. From the wire itself. Woke up with my fingers still tingling, like they’d been grounded.