Hi, Mr. Vice-President! Glad you're not dead!

If someone could please explain to me why I had a dream last night in which a friend from St. John's and I were hanging out with Dick Cheney, then Cheney had a stroke, and we had to rush him to the hospital and try to save his life because there were no doctors there, then we got him a cake because he was still alive, I'd be much happier.

Seriously. I don't often remember my dreams and it seems that the times I do, the only appropriate reaction is to turn to my subconscious and say, "Dude, what?"