A job for a shrink

I must apologise for lateness, but I had a lie in. Last night, for some particularly strange reason, I was having the weirdest dreams. My mother always told me there's nothing more boring then listening to other people's dreams, but these dreams were truly outstanding, and I believe that even the most advanced psychologists might struggle with deciphering these.
The first was just a normal dream. I was driving along in the crap-mobile (see Renault Megane) when suddenly an old fart in one of those horrible small campers (see here) came across the empty road and side swiped the crap-mobile, smashing the rear right quarter. He wasn't going to stop, so I was trying to read his plate, but then he did stop. About 5 or six others got out and started to unload this thing with all sorts of stuff (tables, plasterboard) into a church next door, and then Jamie Oliver (he of the big tongue) is there as well, and as miserable as sin. I go to leave, and one of the roadie types, with a USB Memory stick for an earring (!), says he'll sort out the damage and comes out with me. My bumper's all broken, but the car is drivable, and he insists that I shouldn't persue it with my insurance because I'll lose. He then gets handy and starts to threaten me. Grabbing his wrists, I wake up.
The second dream is a lot shorter. All I remember is the landline in the house ringing with a withheld number, and when I answer, I'm greeted to the sound of utter chaos. Like a very busy street, with engines and all sorts of other noise going. In the tumultous noise I can faintly hear in the background John shouting "It's an emergency!" and then the line goes dead. Again, I wake up, only this time the heart is going a bit faster!
I should lay off the cheese before bedtime.