The OR lights were dim, and I was holding a scalpel that wasn't mine

Last night I dreamed I was back in the operating room, but everything was wrong — the lights were low like a cinema, the scrub nurse was humming a song I didn't recognise, and when I reached for the scalpel it was a child's crayon, blue wax smeared on my glove. I don't think I've felt that awake in a dream in twenty years. Woke up with my hands shaking, and for a second I could still smell the antiseptic.