The Riddle of the Hitler Midget

Dreams. Messages sent from our subconscious, coded signals rich with meaning and purpose, reflections of our deepest, most hidden drives. So why, last night, did I dream about having an underwater fist-fight with a two foot high Hitler midget? I don't remember much else from the dream; I remember being in a newsagent first of all, which is where the midgets first appeared. Their bodies were about a foot tall but their heads were normal size. There were, I recall, good midgets and bad midgets. I have a hazy recollection of a series of adventures leading up to my final confrontation with the Hitler Midget, which took place inside a big metal tank filled with water. I'd got hold of his ears and was slamming his head against the wall while he kicked me in the chin when my alarm went off and woke me up. I had to fight a powerful urge to go back to sleep and finish him off.
Some dreams are clear as crystal in their meanings, others are not. This, I think I can safely say, was one of the latter. Perhaps if I write a poem about it...

In the corner shop I found you,
Shrink-wrapped in your plastic bags,
With heads too big, you led me on,
Through an odyssey of good v bad,
Til that dreadful fall into the tank,
Clouded with its water load,
Frozen round me as I sank,
Wherein a midget Hitler rose.
We joined in battle, I and him,
The fight to end it all,
His midget boots pounding on my chin,
As I banged his head on the wall.

No, that hasn't helped.