I dreamed I sang to a city of rooftops

I was standing on the edge of a vast, quiet city, and the rooftops weren’t stone or tile—they were like curved, open mouths. Each one hummed a different note, low and resonant, and when I sang into the air, they answered in harmony. Not with words, but with tone—like the city itself was a chorus waiting for a mezzo to unlock it. I woke up with my throat sore, not from singing, but from holding the weight of all those voices. It felt realer than any audition room.