I dreamed I was the last ferry captain on a sea of glass

It wasn't water—just this endless, smooth surface under a bruised sky. No waves, no boats. Just me, standing at the wheel of a rusted ferry that didn’t need fuel. The radio crackled once: 'You’re not supposed to be here.' I didn’t answer. I just kept sailing. And for the first time in years, the silence felt like something you could hold.