I dreamed I was a door that never opened

I stood in a hallway made of old keys, each one heavier than the last. No one came to turn them. The lock wasn’t broken—it just didn’t want to be opened. I felt the weight of being waited for, not by someone who loved me, but by someone who needed me to stay closed. When I woke up, my shoulder ached like it had been leaning against something for years. Dogs know when you’re tired. They don’t ask for anything. Just sit. Wait. Watch.