Ugh, another dream that left me lying awake with an adrenaline headache.
The first dream was one I think I had before (H.G. Well's-era explorer meets plant-woman in a very live-action Disney way, though at least this time her species vine-predators had died out before I arrived). ...Anyway, back to my point! Images of the forest segued into a Spanish or North American forest. Turns out it was Spanish, circa an alternate World War 2 where women were allowed to fight and we had these quadruped bikes (the closest I can find to describe them online are "the skating-bikes from Rideback, but with four wheels and no hands"). I was in kind of a method-acting fugue between an older version of Ivana Baquero, the child actress from "Pan's Labyrinth", and our character, who was basically Gomer Pyle from Full Metal Jacket (of which I've only seen clips). Furthermore, my fellow actors were goading my character to shoot myself, possibly because they saw it as harmless teasing in light of the highly-dangerous and often-flat stunts I was pulling in the edge of the forest trying to get used to my quad-wheel. Eventually, I got sick of the teasing, pulled my leg out from one of the legs of the bike, dissociated from my dream character, and felt as "I" shoved the side of my leg into the internal chain, shredding the thigh from the outside in. The last thing I remember before waking up was them yelling for help. This is only one of many dreams I've had lately that had WAY TOO HIGH a stress level, but it's the most vivid self-injury dream I can remember in the near past.