Was that floating like a Cadillac or stinging like a Beamer? I'm confused

I woke up so many times last night that I remember a couple of my dreams quite vividly. In one, I was standing over the kitchen trash can sawing off my toes with a wide-toothed Goody comb while Lil J and Grandma S. played in the family room. No pain, but lots of blood, and I can't remember why I was sawing off my own toes. And then I had another dream that I was desperately trying to take all of Lil J's pants and cut them down into shorts like I was on some sort of deadline. Seems to me that both of these have something to do with delivery-related anxiety. Like my body is preparing to have something removed, and my brain is worried that I have enough small clothes for the baby to wear. OR I'm having lots of misfiring neurotransmitters and am thus talking all crazy. One of those. But I will say this: I have got to get more sleep. Stupid bladder.