The most recent:

I’m on a bus whose seats are along the sides, so that the passengers face the central aisle. Cliff Richard gets on and starts singing Summer Holiday. The seats rotate into pairs so that we’re facing forwards to get the full ghastliness. I end up stuffing my ears with cyclamen (which look distressingly like banana skin that’s several days old.

A few days before that:

I’m in wood in a Terry-Pratchett-like world. On this world, there are talking elephants, some of whom can fly (just like Dumbo). The aviators look just like their non-flying siblings.

Driving along in a removals lorry (that can also fly) are two brothers elephants, one of whom is unable to fly. So his brother, chief of a family/group/herd of elephants who all can fly, is giving him the experience of flying for a treat. In the lorry, stretching from the storage area above the driver/passenger cab to the partially-closed tailgate, is some foliage.

The wood is partially on fire and the tips of the foliage sticking out of the tailgate catch fire. Unaware of this, but aware that the wood is on fire, the elephants fly their van away to escape. They notice that the foliage is burning, even though they’re above the arboral conflagration. So the non-flying brother elephant (who is chief of a family/group/herd of non-flyers) squirts his flying brother in the face with a trunk-load of water, apparently to put out the water.

Unfortunately the dream ended there as I farted myself awake.