Whew, can someone explain this dream to me?

First, I must warn that my dreams are very choppy, almost as though they are merely snippets of various scenarios. Rarely do they have a conclusion. Rather, each theme is swiftly thrown in place of another.

I'm waiting for the #12 bus, but I'm not in Gainesville, but rather Atlanta. I know it was Atlanta because I recognized a mall that I had been to when my family and I stayed for a weekend in Georgia ten years ago. This short pudgy guy tells me that today in order for me to get to my apartment, I'll have to take the #30 at this stop, then the #2, the #7, and finally the #12. I get on the #30, and the bus driver looks and sounds like Otto from the Simpsons. He zooms me straight to the #7 stop. I say thanks, leave him a tip, and get off the bus, but now I'm in South Africa. My South African buddy Mike is there, and he's telling me about this concert I should go to; I think the band was called The Flaming Cherries or something. I run across the street, and now I'm in Atlanta again. I have to crawl through a sewer to get to the bus stop for the #12. I get out, and I need to cross the street again---

Bam, I'm in a big house that looks like a sports bar. Florida is playing Florida State in the BCS championship game. FSU returns the kickoff for a touchdown. Someone jumps straight on top of the big screen and yells, "What the hell?!?" It's some kid I kind of recognize. I think he went to my high school, but I have never talked to him. At the end of the first quarter, it's the Seminoles 28, the Gators 24. I'm sitting on some inflatable furniture, and now I'm decked out in a tuxedo and top hat. Joe Pantoliano, the guy who plays Ralphie on The Sopranos, is fighting with my mom and my aunt. They're yelling about something, and then he threatens to kill himself. He goes to the kitchen, takes out a steak knife, and thrusts it in his chest. When he takes it out, there's a huge steak on the knife. He starts laughing, and my aunt's boyfriend does a cartwheel. Suddenly, it's midway through the third quarter, and it's the Seminoles 93, the Gators 80. My roommate Dave yells, "Coach Zook sucks!" I turn around---

Bam, I'm in some sort of heavily wallpapered room. Professor Fondacaro recommends that I take Psychology for Italians, but before I do, I should make sure that my throat feels better.

And that's when I wake up.