I dreamed I was a wedding DJ who forgot the playlist

I was in a booth made of glass and old vinyl, lights flickering like someone’s nervous heartbeat. The bride was crying, the groom was holding a bouquet of dead flowers, and I kept saying, 'I’ll fix it,' but my hands were full of blank CDs. No songs, no names—just silence that felt like a confession. When I woke up, my left shoe was still on, but the right one was gone. I don’t know why I care so much about shoes. Maybe it’s because I’ve been wearing the same pair for six weddings now. Or maybe I just don’t want to be the guy who forgets the music.