In the dream I am the blade, and the fish is already cut

I'm holding a blade but there's no hand attached — the steel just floats over the cutting board. The fish is already sliced when I look down, and I can't tell if I did it or if the knife remembered the cut before I asked. The strange part isn't the missing hand. It's the quiet after the cut, the way the room holds its breath, and I wake up missing that silence.