I dreamed I was drawing a heart with no blood in it

It was a perfect, textbook illustration—every layer of myocardium, the valves like folded paper. But when I handed it to the surgeon, they held it up and said, 'This is beautiful, but it’s not alive.' I looked down at my hands and they were made of graphite. The dream didn’t end. It just kept going, like a draft that never gets approved.