Bad Dreams

It's a quarter to 11pm on a Monday night and I'm beginning a blog entry.  Why?  Because I'm a little nervous about going to sleep.  I'm not much of a dreamer.  My memories of specific dreams are few and far between.  My memories of bad dreams are even more rare.  This week, however, I have had 3 very memorable bad dreams in a row.  They've all been comical on some level, but they've still caused me to wake with a start, slightly panicked, a little clammy, and breathing really hard.
Last week, I dreamed about something work related.  It would sound silly to tell you about it here, especially if you're not very familiar with my work, but for me, it was devastating.  It was well into my morning, getting ready routine, that I realized it was only a nightmare and not a reality.  And, still, I didn't fully relax until I saw the person involved and heard from her own mouth that it wasn't the truth.
Two nights later, I dreamed about something family related.  Again, it would sound silly.  Trust me, I tried describing it to two different people today and both of them cracked up laughing.  But, again, it was terrible and upsetting, and really unsettling.
Last night, I dreamed something much less entertaining.  I dreamed I was dying.  I dreamed I had a terminal illness, we all knew it, and acknowledged it, and somehow came to the conclusion that it would be best to just go ahead and drain my blood and fluids now rather than waiting for the disease to claim me more slowly.  In my dream, I knew I'd agreed to this, but as the night came, and I was laying on this gurney-like table bed thing, and the man with a scalpel was standing over me prepared to slit my calves (because that's the most obvious place to begin to drain someone's blood, of course!), I began crying and begging the people around me to let me live a little longer, at least until I wouldn't know what was happening to me.  I'm not sure what they decided, since the man with the scalpel was still standing over me when I woke with that sickening start this morning.  I'm still trying to shake that one off.
Because dreams are so rare for me, I tend to attach importance to them, I want to understand them.  It bothers me when I can't figure out where they're coming from, even if the answer is too much red kool-aid before bedtime as my Mom used to always claim. (I haven't had red koolaid in a really long time.)
How about you?  Ever have a nightmare you couldn't shake? What dreams (good or bad) do you remember most?