I dreamed I was drawing a heart with no blood in it

It was a perfect, textbook-accurate cross-section—valves, chambers, the whole thing—but when I held it up, the lines just… didn’t pulse. No red. No warmth. I kept trying to add it, but the ink stayed grey. Then I realized: I wasn’t drawing anatomy. I was drawing a memory of someone who’d already stopped breathing. The worst part? I woke up and my hand still felt like it was holding a pen that had run out of lead.