I dreamed I was still in the OR, but the patients were all children

I was standing at the edge of the operating table, hands steady, but the child on the gurney had my own face. I didn’t feel fear—just a quiet certainty that I’d been here before, that this was how it always ended. The anesthesiologist whispered something about 'the next stage,' and I realized I wasn’t the surgeon anymore. I was the one being operated on. When I woke up, my hands were trembling—not from stress, but from remembering how light they used to feel when they weren’t holding anything.