It began after a movie or party or lecture...not sure which. I came out of a large brick building (it really was like being on a college campus, actually) with a group of friends. We were laughing and talking as we walked across a couple of parking lots towards where we had parked our cars. I recall that one of the topics of conversation was over John Munch, whom we had seen just outside the building. Being a dream, where fiction and reality can meet and mix, we pondered whether he was maybe undercover, because "he's had a lot of experience doing that, anyway."
In the second parking lot, several guys were skateboarding in the dark. One of them, a tall guy, knew one of my dream-friends and spoke to her. She gave him the brush-off (don't know if they were exes or what), and he didn't like that: he knocked her flat on her butt. When she tried to get up, pissed off at him, he slammed the end of his skateboard into her leg just below the knee.
I knew how much that had to hurt, and jumped at him, possible yelling for him to get the hell away from her. Then everything got really confused. Next thing I know, I'm on the ground, too, dazed--not very aware of what's going on around me, except that my right foot and ankle really hurt. I kept fading in and out; not of consciousness, just of wider awareness. When people spoke to me, I would come partly out of my daze, and then slide back under. I remember hearing you, whitemartyr, asking me if I was okay, telling me that help was coming; and the EMTs, asking me questions which I answered through the haze.
When I finally came completely back to myself, I was in some back corner of the ER. A middle-aged nurse with dark hair greeted me, and we had some conversation about my foot. Her name was Karen. At one point she confessed quietly to me that she wasn't allowed to talk to patients about the Lord, and I assumed that she'd seen something I was wearing that made her realize it was okay to talk to me about Him. That pleased me.
Then she helped me get outside to transport which was supposed to take me home. (Things start to get dream-weird from here on out.) This turned out to be a pickup truck, in which I was the passenger, but there was no driver. The truck was driving itself. This didn't bother me until we started going downhill--way too fast. I managed to get control of the truck (very clumsily; right foot like it was, I couldn't drive; I'm pretty sure I had my left foot on the brake), and pulled off at a friend's house. They were too busy watching TV to take me all the way home, so I sat with them until the sun was coming up and I was utterly exhausted, and then I decided I could get myself home.
The rest petered out into weirdness involving the Simpsons and loan sharks (thanks, L&O: CI), but I thought it was worth telling just for the more dramatic part of the dream. :-)