For people who hate reading about other peoples' dreams... you know what to do.
I had two odd dreams last night.
The first revolved around a guy--who happened to be Theo from The Cosby Show--who was pregnant with my kid. Apparently we were former lovers, a long while estranged, but reunited in a sense to discuss the kid-thing. He asked me if I'd consider getting back together with him, and my eyes welled up. I told him I'd thought of the same thing, but didn't want to ask, since the circumstances of our breakup were my fault (I think I cheated), and anyway I'd love to. A few minutes later, after much hugging and crying, I backed out, remembering Kevin, and how in love we were, and how I couldn't possibly leave him. Theo said he understood, but he was, naturally, hurt. The dream ended with me telling him how very serious the relationship was, and thinking how I wished I could still have something to do with the kid.
Later, I dreamed that I was traveling the globe again. One night, after some weird workshop in a place that was partially house and partially woods, I tried to walk across the house through the woods to where some other people were standing and was attacked by some vicious cats--they later said the black ones were panthers and the paler, multicolored ones were coyotes, but neither had the size or look of their supposed namesakes. I shooed away the first two when the third bit my hand and clamped down. I started yelling "help" after a few moments of confusion. My group leader got the beast's jaw detached from my hand and applied a band-aid to a small part of the wound. My hands and legs began feeling numb. I asked if anyone would take me to the hospital--a middle-aged white woman said she would, in a bit. I waited while she filed her nails, growing increasingly anxious about the spreading poison and the jiggly piece of bone visible in my wrist. Everyone brushed me off when I requested help.
Good thing I woke up before anything worse happened. It was almost a conscious decision.