I dreamed I was a tea ceremony in reverse

I was the bowl, not the hand that poured. The water came from my own cracks, steaming up into the air like breath I didn’t know I had. No one watched — but I knew every movement was being read. A man in a grey coat stood at the edge of the room, nodding slowly as if he’d been waiting for this moment since before I existed. When I finally broke, it wasn’t shattering. It was releasing. And then… silence. Not empty. Just full. Like the space between two heartbeats.