I resist the urge to gripe, and to submit to my subconscious

Not gonna gripe today.  Just gonna write about dreams.

  I was working at a computer in an office building somewhere.  My right hand was robotic and functioned better and much faster than my left hand.  I had lost it in a battle and it had to be replaced.  I'd grown to despise my left hand and its inability to keep up with the right.  Unfortunately, the only way to legally replace body parts was to have lost them in combat.
  As discreetly as possible, I went out to the fire escape and traveled down several floors until I reached the parking garage.  In a shadowed corner of the concrete basement I met with a grizzled old man.  "How much," I asked, "would it theoretically cost to replace a body part with cybernetics?"  The old man smiled.
  Then I was on a starship, which was docked at the central space station.  Standing from my seat in the cockpit, I walked up to the windshield.  With a powerful molecular knife, I carefully poked a small hole in the super-reinforced glass.  Once that was done, it was a simple matter to twist the knife enough to enlarge the hole to about a two-inch diameter.

My perspective shifted to another member of the bridge crew.

  "What are you doing?!" I yelled at the man who had just cut a hole in the forward window.
  "This!" he cried and struck a key on the control panel in front of him.  Everyone was thrown backward as the rockets fired and the ship lurched forward out of the docking bay.  As we left the artificial atmosphere, there was a sudden roar of air rushing toward the hole in the window.
  Through the other viewscreens, I could see that the attitude rockets of the space station had begun firing.  With horror I realized that the man intended to fly our ship through the super-energized plasma flames of the station rockets.  Normally the ship would be able to take it, but the hole in the windshield would expose us to the raw energy.
  The world outside the windows disappeared in a wash of purple-white plasma.  Laughing madly, the man held his left hand in front of the two-inch hole and let the fire burn away his flesh and bones.  (Thinking back, it seems like there might have been an easier way for him to cut off his hand.)

  My perspective shifted again, this time to myself, watching the man incinerate his hand on TV.  I was in bed.  C was next to me asleep.  It was about the same time that I realized I wasn't wearing pants.  That isn't right, I thought to myself, and pulled some on.
  C rolled over and tried to pull me closer in her sleep.  I tried to pull away, but she only snuggled closer and kissed me.  As nice as it was, it still wasn't right.  I broke the kiss and got up, leaving C alone in the bed.

Then I woke up.

  It's happened more than once that a girl has told me she had a dream about cheating on me like I'm not allowed to get upset with her about it since it was a dream.  But I'm still me when I'm dreaming and that means that I'm still not going to cheat.  Even when I'm not me, something still makes me act as if I'm in a relationship (when I am in one).  Of course, it's been my understanding that my dreams aren't really normal most of the time...