A Peculiar Dream

I slept extremely well last night with one glaring exception -- I had a dream. Normally I can't remember my dreams, but this one penetrated far enough into the conscious part of my brain that I couldn't help but write about it. 

I was sitting there at the bar with my classmates chit-chatting when I saw Victor Davis Hanson walk in and come and sit down next to me. I have no idea what he was doing here in Brno.  He asked everyone around the table if they knew how important I was, then he discreetly slipped a Schilling from the Austro-Hungarian Empire into my pocket, and left.

Then I woke up.

If anyone could explain this dream to me, I would appreciate it.