Largest Walmart in human history becomes penitentary for the unwitting masses...and Matt Damon's telescoping penis trick

Sharon wanted to just go inside to grab a few things, but the crowd was too big for my liking. This dystopian Walmart Superstore had a parking garage-like structure which, upon entering turned into one giant maze that herded the massive crowds into a prison type trap. You go in easily enough, just follow the lines of people. But once inside, the way out becomes more and more difficult to see. Add to that the crush of humanity, all surging in one direction toward the central location. 

The gigantic structure was at least four stories high and was made to accommodate more than a million people. There seemed to be a pretty big crowd that day, and it was growing by the minute. I estimated 400,000 easily, all shouting and calling to one another as loved ones became lost in the sea of faces. Some people managed to stay together in their little groups, but not Sharon and I. I lost her right at the entrance. She thought she'd be able to just go in and come right back out. 

I should have waited in a pre-designated location, but I went in after a few minutes. I kept catching glimpses of her on the long ramps of the parking structure as she'd fade in and out of the crowds. I got the sense that she wanted a little alone time from me but this was not turning out to be the fun day of shopping she'd envisioned. It was the world's biggest clusterfuck, and it seemed to be inescapable. 

I managed to stay on the periphery and kept trying to call to her but the giant cement walls and the din of other shoppers, all lost to the process of intake, made it impossible. I remained outside on the grass. I ran like a beast, clawing the earth in frustration as I looked up at the huge prison building from outside.

Click scene to a similar mega structure, this time, yep, my old place of employment. It was now the world's largest Honda dealership. It had more open spaces, but it was the same vibe of a centrally controlled entity from which you don't easily obtain freedom. I was one of a small group of two or three that found themselves somewhere we oughtn't have been. There were consequences for that. Surely, we were all shirking our duties and would be reprimanded if caught. 

I teamed up with a young female with dark hair and we spent a good amount of time running from one place to another eluding the authorities. I thought since I knew some of the main people who ran the place, namely Machelle Hankins, the daughter of the boss lady, that I might get special consideration and just be told to get back to work. I wasn't sure, though, and didn't want to test the theory by being caught. Sometimes knowing the bosses daughter just makes you doubly guilty.

Aaaaand...next I was in a rundown version of my Paradise house. It was different in many ways, but  the vibe I got from the place was that I had owned it or lived there at one time, but now was just holed up there temporarily, squatting surreptitiously. 

What do I do when squatting surreptitiously in an abandoned home that I used to own? Masturbate, apparently. I whipped it out and started stroking, quite aware that this was not an appropriate action, which made it all the more appealing. As per dream protocol, of course, nothing ever culminated in climax. I got distracted by something or another. 

At some point Matt Damon, wearing boxer shorts that had a safety pinned fly from which his penis protruded like a Jack-in-the-box made an appearance. It was a neat trick, this retractable member. Up periscope. Down periscope. In the hole, out of the hole goes the snake.

I don't know what to make of that, as I'm not particularly attracted to Matt Damon. Perhaps it was the guy from Dexter, I don't know his name. I have been binge watching that show lately, though I don't find myself wanting to look at his junk, either. 

I know there was a little more, like the fact that I recognized Joe Antos when I was shirking my Yuba City Honda responsibilities. He was shirtless and had a few cuts on his chest and face, like he'd been in a fight. He was drinking a 40 oz, not too much worse for wear. Just another day for "Hardcore Joe," fighting, drinking and running from the authorities. 

Ok, that seems to be the limit of my recollection. Some details I'd have liked to have slipped my mind, namely the masturbation and Matt Damon's penis, but hey, I'm just reporting the news. Your dedicated "man on the street" dream journalist, at your service.