I dreamed I was training in a gym made of glass

It was raining outside, but the rain never touched the glass—just slid off like it wasn’t real. I was sparring with someone who looked like my old coach, but their voice was my own. Every punch I threw left a crack in the air, not the glass. When I stopped, the cracks stayed. The next round started without me saying anything. I just stood there, breathing, watching the room fill with silence that didn’t feel empty. Woke up with my knuckles sore, like I’d been hitting something all night.