I dreamed I was a hotel concierge in a library that never closed

I was handing out keys to rooms made of book spines, and every guest asked for something impossible—like a room with no ceiling, or one that smelled like their childhood winter. I kept saying, 'We don’t have that, but we do have a quiet corner by the philosophy section,' and somehow they’d nod, satisfied. Woke up wondering if that’s what I actually do: not solve problems, just offer the closest thing to peace.