I dreamed I was a fossil in a museum case

Not a bone—just a shadow-shaped impression in the rock, preserved for millions of years. I could feel the air moving through the gallery, the weight of visitors’ eyes, but I couldn’t speak. Then a kid knelt down, not to look, but to press their palm flat against the glass. I felt it—the warmth, the pressure—and for a second, I wasn’t fossilized at all. I was alive. And then the lights went out. I woke up with my shoulder still aching from where I’d been leaning on the desk.