I kept dreaming and then waking up, dreaming and waking up last night, but the dream that I remember most clearly was this one:
It was like a heist movie, and the Rugrats babies had stumbled upon a checkbook (it looked like an ordinary brown diary, but that's what it was called in the dream, and I saw on two separate pages a big question mark and the numbers 10:01 or 1.01) that had proof of some company's bad deeds. I was helping a group to save the babies and retrieve the book. The enemies (headed by Kathleen Turner or someone who looked like her) got there first, though. I was able to shoot some of the henchmen lurking in the hall outside the room where the babies were kept, but when I opened the door, Kathleen shot me first, in the gut.
The rest of the group subdued her and retrieved the babies and the book while I lay in someone's lap. I was in kind of a daze, rolling the bullet around under my skin (I could feel the ridge just under the squashed head) while feeling a little peeved at the rest of the group for not taking me to the emergency room right away; they were arguing about something else. Only when I lifted my shirt up to see the blood pouring out of the bullethole under my ribcage did I start to wheeze and cry in terror, and still no one could make up their minds.