no room for elvis

Last night I had the strangest dream … where, as is the way of many strange dreams, recent but separate scenarios from one’s waking life were mixed together into a not-quite-so coherent whole.
My dream centred around the illicit exchange of large amounts of cheese between black-suited gangster-types. It was quite apparent that we were dealing with the “cheese mafia” .
In the midst of the exchange loud singing intruded into the background. And not just any random singer – it was Elvis. And he was shouting more than singing. One of the gangsters quickly looked up to locate the source of the interruption. And then …
I woke up. Elvis was emanating from the clock radio which had not been turned off last night.
I think my sleeping self had made a brave effort to link another random experience into the dream, but it seems there just was not space to include Elvis in my dream too.
Sometimes even your unconscious decides enough is enough.