I keep dreaming about the empty frame

Last night I dreamed I was holding my camera, but when I raised it to my eye there was no lens—just a rectangular hole you could see clear through the world with. Everyone was crying and I kept telling them it was fine, that I saw them better this way. Woke up and almost believed it. Maybe that's the whole thing, isn't it: the unshot frame, the one you chose not to take. Starting to think that's where the honest photographs live anyway.