The glove drawer in my dream had a heartbeat

I'm standing at a scrub sink in a hospital I've never worked in, and the gloves are hanging on a line like laundry. I reach for one and it's warm, still faintly pulsing. I wake up with my own hands folded the way I used to hold them for a patient — steady, patient, waiting. That's all. No blood, no beeping. Just the gloves breathing.