dreams: January 2003 Archives

Last night's dream was rather epic. The thread tying everything together was that I was some heroic character, pursuing some characters but being chased by others trying to keep me from achieving my destiny.
There were many separate vignettes:
Driving my car down a gravel road, losing control many times. My car had been hit in the parking lot (or I'd wrecked it before parking) and both fenders as well the rear end had been seriously damaged.
Attending a concert of some washed up 70's band and being robbed while there. Deciding to go to Double Dave's afterward for peproni rolls.
Driving through the streets of Mexico City trying to lose a car that was tailing me. Parking in the garage of some combined shopping center/hotel and getting a room in an attempt to escape the hoods that were trying to kill me. The hotel room was where I finally obtained the magic knife. It was some four-bladed device that was infinitely sharp. Once I got my hands on it, my enemies became much more cooperative.

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.