On the morning of nearly every trial he's has ever defended, Phoenix has woken up at 5:30 AM from a vivid nightmare in which he looks down in court to discover he isn't wearing any clothes. It's an event so regular that he's just about accepted that that he's doomed to keep on having those dreams for the rest of his career, but on the upside of that regularity thing, at least he's had so much practice lately that he can pretty much just roll over and go back to sleep when they happen, which is an enormous relief. He can trace their evolution from way back before his courtroom days, through college nightmares of appearing at an exam in nothing but his boxer shorts, all the way back to primary school dreams of showing up in class in his pajamas. In fact, it's getting to the point now that they're gone full circle and turned into something he finds practically reassuring – a bit like an old friend who still visits now and then (and then goes through your fridge, camps out on your couch and tells all your cooler friends childhood stories which he misremembers so that they're twice as embarrassing as they should be). Anyway, Phoenix knows perfectly well that dreams like that are nothing more than typical low-grade paranoia – everyone gets something like them sometimes, right? Probably even Edgeworth.
While Edgeworth would never confirm it, Phoenix is even more right than he imagines. Right before every court case he's prosecuted in the last few months, Edgeworth has had that exact same dream. And though it's a welcome relief from that other nightmare that used to plague him, he finds it quite deeply unsettling, because he's never had dreams like that before and can't figure out just what they mean.
Why he keeps dreaming that Phoenix Wright is naked in court he isn't sure he wants to know.