Impenetrable Dreams

Should I be afraid that I ken the subconscious mind of LDH, proprietor of Impenetrable Prose and Poesy? Grok this:

Had a dream a few nights back where I was about seven years old and Johnny Cash's son. He and I were in a 50's-style diner; he was still kinda young looking, but with obvious signs of premature aging from his amphetamine addiction showing in his face. After we'd gotten our food, he shyly whispered to me that he didn't have any money on him. I pulled out my current-real-life-adult wallet and showed him I had three $20 bills, asking him if he wanted to borrow any. He shook his head no and said, "I got a better idea."

Next thing I know, we're running out of the diner and down the street, busting up every sign along the way that has any kind of neon tubes or light bulbs attached. We somehow wind up in the Batcave, where Johnny changes into the Joker [stop and picture that for a minute -- Johnny Cash wearing the makeup and clothes of the 60's TV series Joker -- small wonder I still remember this one...], Jessica Simpson shows up in the Yvonne Craig Batgirl suit, and we all pile into the Batmobile with still-seven-year-old me behind the wheel, where I realize I'm now wearing a cowboy hat and boots and a Darth Vader mask [yes, my subconscious stole a punchline from an old copy of Reader's Digest and dressed me up as -- wait for it -- "Darth Brooks"...]

I wish I could remember more of my dreams. The ones I have are weird, but I haven't had any like that since my college days.