I dreamed I was the last ferry captain on a sea of glass

I was alone in a harbor that didn’t need boats. The water was smooth as obsidian, reflecting nothing. I stood at the wheel, hands on cold metal, knowing the engine was dead but still turning the key. No one boarded. No one left. Just me, and the silence where waves should be. When I woke up, my hands were still gripping the air like they’d been holding something real.