I dreamed I was turning a vault lock with my bare hands

It wasn't a real vault—just a door in a hallway that kept shifting. The tumblers were like teeth, each one refusing to fall into place. I could feel the weight of every failed attempt in my wrists. Then I woke up with my fingers curled tight, as if still gripping the handle. Funny how the body remembers what the mind forgets. Rain’s been falling all morning—soft, steady. Feels like the kind of weather that makes you want to stay inside and turn things.