On Dreams, Pt. III (Apparently)

I've mentioned that I have some odd dreams on occasion. I have a zombie dream every 5-8 weeks or so, I frequently show up for class unprepared but refuse to care because I remember I graduated college and am just visiting people in these bizarrely huge amphitheaters and, somehow, the world is always coming to and end, a sense a dread and doom weighs down on me from above as a larg, fiery cataclysm waits above us all.
The other day I dreamed of someone I hadn't seen or talked to in a while and ended up running into her the next morning.

Fun stuff. Par for the course, really.

But here's a new one I've yet to figure out: I've begun having a reoccurring dream-theme, wherein I get subpoenaed by the prosecution to testify as a witness in some kind of federal libel/freedom of press case on the scale of the McCarthy hearings. Two nights ago I was chatted up by a pretty girl in a book store who then slapped me with the subpoena, but I didn't know what it was asking me to attest to.
Last night I was actually called to testify. I got up in the witness box and was asked to read some trivial blurb I had written for some magazine, the only of three things in that issue I was credited with. I don't even remember what it was about other than that I mocked something for being on-par with a recent celebrity gaff. Granted I was under no charges myself, but the issue came down to whether or not "everybody already knows" protected my article (and thereby the publication) from accusations of libel by the celebrity to whom I had compared the piece's subject.

Also, I have to pee throughout the whole thing.
I'm not sure what that means.