Some comedy to combat my recent slew of angst stories.

The nightmare haunted his dreams. No matter how hard he tried to shake it, to will it to go away, it stayed. Chipping away at his defenses, clawing at his psyche, tearing at his most inner self.

"Why is a raven like a writing desk?" he muttered, repeating it over and over restively, shaking his head in confusion. "Not real...no sense."

His restless tossing stilled momentarily. A few minutes later he began to mumble, a distortion of a childhood refrain: "Twinkle, twinkle, little bat! How I wonder what you're at!"

He turned on his stomach and settled down once more. The next moment, the same nebulous, false images began to invade the darkest recesses of his mind.

"No!" he cried out loud. "Not true! I know who I was when I got up this morning! I must have been changed since then." He was now speaking in rapidly staccato and panicked notes.

"Got to wake up!" he insisted. "Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, will you join the dance?"

He couldn't open his eyes. Why couldn't he open his eyes?

"Would not, could not, would not, could not, would not join the dance," he mumbled helplessly. "Stop it! You've got to wake up," he urged.

"You've-got-to-WAKE UP!"

Dick sat up in bed, drenched to the skin. His heart thumped in his chest, his breathing ragged. Taking deep, harsh gulps of air, he brought his shaky hands up to his face, rubbing his eyes, trying to get himself under control.

Feeling slightly better, he threw off the covers and made his way to the bathroom. Leaving the lights off, Dick turned on the cold-water tap and held his still trembling hands under the water, quickly splashing his face.

Eyes closed, Dick breathed in deeply, feeling somewhat recovered.

He thought back to the nightmares that had troubled his sleep during the night, but couldn't recall any. Just a sense that there was something so wrong, so--

Dick stopped. A feeling of unease began to spread deep inside him. The same black foreboding that had plagued his dreams.

"Take it easy, Grayson," he muttered. "There's no such thing as a bogeyman." He sighed. He glanced over his shoulder at the glowing bedside clock--10:06. He blinked, squinted his eyes and looked again--3:15.

"Funny," he mumbled. "Could've sworn…"

He leaned against the door jam, gazing tiredly at his rumpled bed.

"I guess there's little chance of going back to sleep. Might as well get something done," he said deciding to go out on a late night patrol. Shrugging, he flipped on the bathroom light and was met by the face of his nightmare!

Dick took the deserted roads at incredible speeds, at times pushing the motorcycle to over 140 mph. He didn't care. He had to see Bruce. Bruce would help him. Bruce would fix it.

Dick thought of the countless times in his life that he'd turned to his mentor, his 'father,' when he had no one else in whom to turn. Oh, he had the Titans---fiercely loyal friends who'd follow him into Hell if he asked them.

And he had Oracle, in whom he'd willingly lose himself if she so much as hinted, 'Yes.' In fact, she was the first person he'd thought to call for help. He'd been on the verge of contacting her, when something stopped him. Suddenly, he didn't want Oracle to see him this way.

No, for this, Dick needed his family.

"Only Bruce," he muttered. "No one else!"

Taking the hairpin turns that led to the Batcave's secret entrance, he amended his words. "Except, maybe, Alfred." He paused. "And Leslie," he added. He felt suddenly vulnerable. Leslie would also have to know.

The unyielding cliff face loomed before him, an ominous shadow in the night. Tensing himself, he gunned the motorcycle and aimed directly for it, his heart rate jumping like always. As he approached it, the hologram projecting the cliff face dissolved, morphing into the well-worn path that led deeper into the Batcave.

As he zoomed through the dark tunnels leading home, Dick felt that heart-thumping panic start growing within his soul again. How would he face Bruce? How would he tell him? More importantly, how would Bruce react? Would he even believe him?

"He has to," Dick muttered. "He will!"

Dick knew that every monitoring device installed in the Cave was already tracking him. The fact that no defensive weapons had been activated told him that the Cave's occupant knew who was invading his secret headquarters.

Seeing the lights up ahead, Dick willed his breathing and heart rate to slow down. Soon, he entered the Batcave's living/work area and saw the grim figure up ahead. Waiting for him. Dick slowly maneuvered the motorcycle up to its parking berth, never taking his eyes off of Batman.

Finally, bringing his bike to a complete stop, he waited a moment, watching Batman for any reaction. There! Dick gulped, astonished by how quickly Batman 'made' him. There was no helping it now.

Here goes nothing, he thought grimly. Dismounting, he stood slowly so as not to provoke an attack from his mentor. Raising his hands to his helmet, Dick deliberately removed it.

The alert went off. Not a raucous alarm warning of an intruder in his inner sanctum, but rather a subtle red light blinking on his security console. Eyes narrowing, Batman quickly activated the close circuit television cameras that lined the pathways leading to the Batcave.

His monitors quickly showed the 'intruder.' The shadow of a half-smile tugged at the corner of the Dark Knight's normally grim mouth. Not an intruder, but a welcome visitor. Abruptly, the smile left him.

Why would Dick be coming here so late--or early depending on one's point of view? And why hadn't he called ahead?

"Something must be wrong," he said, making his way down to the vehicle hangar. As the motorcycle entered the living area of the Batcave, Batman saw it slow down, until it came to a hesitant stop.

Batman waited, his sharp eyes assessing his young visitor. There was something 'different' about Dick, he noted immediately. His clothes for one thing were much too large on him, as if he'd lost more than a hundred pounds overnight. Dick's height--his overall size, in fact, was all wrong! Instantly, he knew. This wasn't Dick! This was--

The visitor removed all doubt from his mind at the next moment. Dismounting cautiously, 'he' removed the protective helmet, and revealed not Dick but a stranger--a girl.