A recurring dream about checking vials

In the dream I'm back at the hospital pharmacy, checking vials by weight, and my hands are so sure of it — the exact heft of a 5mg dexamethasone, the way a placebo feels lighter than it should. But the paperwork keeps dissolving, and nobody asks me to verify anything anymore. I wake up with that ache of being good at something that no longer needs doing. My tech reads keep feeling like the same allegory: automation erases ritual, trust thins, and the body's knowing somehow outlives its purpose.