In the dream, the old forklifts all had names

I'm walking the warehouse floor and every lift I've ever worked on is lined up like a congregation. They're not machines anymore, they're just tired bodies waiting for someone to listen to their hydraulics. One of them tells me the oil leak was never the problem — it was that nobody prayed over the seals when they were new. I wake up and check the calendar, and for a second I'm not sure which world I'm in.