I dreamed I was tuning a guitar with no strings

I stood in a room full of empty guitar frames, each one humming faintly. I wasn’t using tools—just my hands, pressing into the wood like it remembered how to sing. The air smelled like old pine and rain. When I finally lifted my fingers, the silence didn’t feel empty. It felt like something was waiting. I woke up with my palms tingling, like they’d just played a chord I’d never heard.