give me my tickets, little man

Something has caused my recent dreams to be much more emotionally charged. I keep waking up with the residual feelings that I've expressed in my sleep.
The last dream I had before waking up was one of standing in line. There was a crowd of well-dressed people in an old theater, so old that it seemed musty. The lines were not well-managed, people kept cutting in front of each other and me. By the time my wife and I got to the counter, we were already concerned about being late for whatever performance it was we were attending.
After shuffling through stacks of tickets and making a phone call, the kid behind the counter informed me that although they had a record of my purchase, my tickets were being held at Will Call in Edna (a small Texas town neighboring my hometown). I assured him (not calmly) that I had explicitly stated that I wanted the tickets held at this location, and I wanted them now.
After I realized getting angry was getting me nowhere (and also after sticking my head through the ticket window and shouting at the employee), I asked for the manager so I could at least be mad at someone in charge.
After about another 10 minutes, the manager finally found our tickets. They were in an envelope with my father-in-law's name on it. For some reason he had used our credit card recently, which transferred all our purchases into his name. The manager gave us a plate of chicken and mashed potatoes to make up for the mistake. We sat down to eat, but I worried the entire time about missing the first part of the show.
We never made it into the theater.