An Independent Film Festival

A few nights ago huge stuffed Berts and Ernies were laying around in my dream. Next I was driving and dodging their ten-foot-square heads and the stuffing on the highway.
A couple of nights ago I was kissing nipples in a dream. On men and women, but only on flat-chested women. They were all lined up and laying down. There's one more thing I remember, but that's all I'm going to say about that one.
In last night's dream, a guy I know just popped into town to stay with me for the next few days. I was sitting in his car outside my house, but the driveway was from my grandmother's house in Texas. I said I'd sleep in my car with him. In the driveway. I didn't want him to see the messy house. I drove him around and told him that he'd visited at the worst time of year. Though it's still green, the fall colors have recently waned. We drove through clearings, not down roads or paths. Now that I think about it, these scenes were similar to ones I'd seen in photographs of Romania two days ago. We went somewhere and saw my aunt and some other people. I called a man "Dad" and hugged him. He looked nothing like my dad. Then another man walked in, and I realized my mistake. He was my dad, but, once again, he looked nothing like my dad. When we left, the guy ran off to ring a bell in a bell tower. A bell tower with the interior exposed.
Ok, something's up. My brain is putting on a nighttime independent film festival. The strangest one I've attended in years. It's definitely an independent film festival...as I'm not sponsoring it. Would I really want to see what kinds of commercials I'd be left with anyway? :)
And who wants to bet that these kinds of things would stump a dream interpreter? I sure as heck don't know what they mean.