One of "Those" Dreams

I had one last night--I don't remember the setting, but in my dreams I was disrobing. A companion, a man a think, exclaimed, "Oh my god, you can't go out like that!" I looked down and realized that he wasn't saying that because I was naked, but because I was covered with cuts and bruises. Hm. What would Freud say is really the thing that's beat up?

Seeing my exercise class teacher this morning, the one who reminds me of Barbie's friend Skipper, jogged my memory of that dream--her limbs always seem to be covered with small wounds in various stages of healing. I hope it's just because she's a rock climber or too-avid kickboxer or something, rather the victim of some horrible boyfriend.