Last night I dreamed I was a patient in my own OR

I'm lying on the table and the anesthesiologist is me, but I can see myself from above, and my hands are moving in that familiar slow rhythm — mask, gas, tape. I try to tell the me below to keep his eyes open, it's not time yet, but the propofol is already running and the ceiling tiles start to blur. I woke up with that same sensation I get around 3am on call — the one where the eyes close before you've decided you're ready.