Even my dreams are full of visions of me in perfect health.

Dreams are careless with the body. People wake having climbed something, or having run for a bus, or having simply stood up out of a chair without planning the route first.

The mind seems to keep an older file and it does not update on schedule. That can be tender in both directions — a small cruelty at the moment of waking, and also evidence that somewhere in you a whole picture of yourself is still intact.

Nothing has to be made of it. But it is not nothing that the version of you the mind reaches for by default is the well one.