When the Body Remembers — And When It Goes Quiet
- Jody Valkyrie | Healing Artist
- Dec 28, 2025
- 5 min read
Pain, Sensation, and the Nervous System’s Two Survival Strategies
I regularly dream—and when I do, I dream vividly. Images are rich and immersive, environments are detailed, and sensations are often fully embodied. In waking life, I also visualize easily and maintain a high degree of awareness of my own body. Subtle shifts in tension, asymmetry, holding patterns, and internal sensations rarely escape my notice. This isn’t something I consciously set out to develop; it emerged gradually through curiosity, listening, and years of working in close relationship with the body.
That internal awareness also informs my work as a bodyworker. The ability to perceive nuance—texture, density, responsiveness, and change—begins from the inside out. My nervous system is fluent in sensation, and it often communicates through images, felt sense, and movement before words ever arrive. Because of this, I tend to notice things others might overlook—not because I’m doing something extraordinary, but because my system is accustomed to paying attention.
It’s also important to say this clearly: this capacity exists on a spectrum. Some people dream vividly, visualize easily, and feel a great deal. Others do not. Neither is better, more evolved, or more “aware.” They are simply different nervous-system expressions shaped by history, experience, and adaptation.
So when I had a dream last night where I could feel physical discomfort—specifically in my right knee and quad—it stopped me. Not metaphorically. Not symbolically. Physically.
The sensation was clear, familiar, and embodied in the same way sensations are when I’m awake—specific enough to recognize, distinct enough to question.
When I woke up, the discomfort was gone, but the question stayed with me:
If my body can experience pain in a dream—without movement, injury, or sensory input—how much of what we feel in waking life is actually happening in the present moment… and how much is remembered, predicted, or replayed by the nervous system?
It’s a question that sits at the intersection of neuroscience, somatic awareness, and lived experience—and one that opens a door many of us were never taught to walk through.
Pain Is Real — Even When the Cause Isn’t Obvious
Modern neuroscience confirms something bodyworkers and somatic practitioners have observed for decades:
pain does not require active tissue damage to be real.
It requires perception.
The brain’s primary job isn’t accuracy—it’s prediction. Based on past experience, it continually asks:
Is this area safe?
Has this movement been dangerous before?
Should we protect here?
If an area of the body has a history—injury, compensation, overuse, or emotional stress—the nervous system may continue to signal caution long after the original issue has resolved.
This is why someone can experience:
persistent pain with “normal” imaging
recurring tightness in the same place
discomfort without a clear mechanical cause
And it’s also why pain experienced in dreams feels just as real as pain felt while awake.
From the nervous system’s perspective, “real” means experienced, not “currently damaged.”
The Brain Doesn’t Make the Distinctions We Think It Does
The same neural networks activate for:
actual sensation
remembered sensation
imagined sensation
anticipated sensation
To the brain, these are variations of the same signal.
This means a knee that once compensated, a quad that once overworked, or a side of the body that once carried stress can continue to feel tight, unstable, or painful—even when the tissue itself is no longer the issue.
The sensation isn’t imagined.
It’s contextual.
The Nervous System as Archivist, Not Just Alarm
Think of the nervous system not only as an alarm system, but as an archivist.
It stores:
movement patterns
injury history
emotional states
protective strategies
learned expectations
The more often a pathway is used, the more efficient it becomes. Over time, the body doesn’t ask whether protection is still needed—it simply repeats what once worked.
This repetition can show up as:
chronic pain
persistent tightness
“that spot always acts up”
discomfort that doesn’t match the present moment
Often, what’s being felt isn’t current danger—it’s stored information.
Why Dreams Reveal This So Clearly
Dreams bypass conscious filtering. There’s no posture, no gravity, no external input—yet the body can still feel sore, restricted, heavy, or strained.
That tells us something important:
Sensation doesn’t always originate in the body. Sometimes it originates in the memory of the body.
Dreams simply remove the distractions and reveal the mechanism underneath.
The Other Side of the Spectrum: When Sensation Goes Quiet
It’s just as important to name the flip side of this conversation—because not every nervous system expresses memory through sensation.
In my work, I see many people who rarely dream, struggle to visualize, or have difficulty sensing certain areas of their body. Often, these same individuals have a history of physical injury—sometimes dating back to childhood—that resulted in lingering numbness, altered sensation, or neuropathy.
Where some nervous systems over-signal, others under-signal.
Both responses are adaptive.
When pain, injury, or overwhelm is chronic—especially early in life—the nervous system may decide that feeling less is safer than feeling more. Instead of amplifying sensation as protection, it dampens it.
This can show up as:
numbness or reduced sensation
difficulty visualizing or imagining internally
limited dream recall
feeling disconnected from certain body regions
understanding the body cognitively, without a strong felt sense
This is not a lack of awareness.
It’s not a failure of imagination.
It’s a protective neurological strategy.
Two Expressions of the Same Intelligence
Hypersensation and numbness may appear opposite, but they are actually two solutions to the same underlying question:
How do I survive what my system wasn’t equipped to process at the time?
Some nervous systems cope by staying alert—keeping sensation loud, memorable, and online.
Others cope by going quiet—turning the volume down to preserve stability and function.
Neither response is wrong.
Both are intelligent.
Both are rooted in survival.
And importantly—both can shift, not through force, but through safety, pacing, and trust.
Sensation, Visualization, and the Brain’s Map
When sensation has been unreliable or absent for a long time, the brain may reduce how much attention or representation a body area receives in its internal map. Over time, this can influence:
felt sense
imagery and visualization
movement confidence
dream content
connection to the body as a whole
For these individuals, being asked to “visualize,” “feel into it,” or “imagine energy” may not be accessible—or appropriate—at first.
And that’s okay.
Healing does not require visualization.
It requires meeting the nervous system where it learned to survive.
What This Means in Healing Work
This is why one-size-fits-all approaches fall short.
You can’t ask a numb nervous system to feel more without first establishing safety.
You can’t ask a hyper-vigilant nervous system to relax without restoring trust.
For some people, healing looks like softening sensation.
For others, it looks like slowly reclaiming it.
For many, it looks like learning how to move between the two—with choice.
This is also why bodywork, gentle movement, breath, grounding, and non-imagery-based awareness can create real physical change—without forcing sensation or interpretation.
The nervous system responds not just to touch, but to context.
Listening Beyond Sensation
Whether a body speaks loudly or barely at all, it is still communicating.
Healing doesn’t come from forcing sensation where it doesn’t exist—or silencing it where it does—but from meeting the nervous system where it learned to cope.
Sometimes the most profound shifts happen not when we try to fix the body, but when we help it realize:
You don’t have to protect in the same way anymore.
A Gentle Invitation
In my work, I don’t ask bodies to perform, visualize, or feel on command.
I meet them where they are—and build safety first.
If you live with chronic sensation, numbness, or a sense of disconnection from your body, know this:
Nothing is wrong with you.
Your nervous system adapted intelligently.
And it can learn something new—at its own pace.
Healing isn’t about overriding the body.
It’s about updating a story that once kept you safe.
Author’s note: This reflection is experiential and educational, not diagnostic or prescriptive. Pain, numbness, and nervous-system responses are complex and personal. If you’re navigating ongoing symptoms, working with qualified medical or therapeutic professionals alongside somatic support is always encouraged.
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