A wierd dream, as are all my dreams listed, but this one is yet to be analysed.

Another weird one yet to be analysed

I was in a kind of huge, but open, prison. Open in that some, or any, of us were able to go out and mingle with the people.
A woman appeared in the huge room prisoners were congregating in. Her back was to me, but I noticed she was wearing an off-white outfit and that she was young, probably in her twenties. Someone commented that she was in a bad way because she was on the rebound.
A huge man was sitting in a big dirty cell waiting for his wife who was having a n interview with someone in another room.
“You don’t have to wait in this big, dirty old cell,” I told him. “Wander around, or go in there with your wife.”
He just stared at me with a blank expression on his face.
The next thing I knew my kid sister was with me. The man described was in the same room, and a lot of others.
“Isn’t that Beau from the Soap?” I asked her, pointing to a slim man sitting on a bench. His beard was trimmed close, he was slimmer than on the Young and Restless, but still Beau.
“Yes it is”, she grinned.
At that moment, the man who had been waiting in the big dirty cell for his wife entered, and threw up his hands in an agitated manner.
“Why didn’t it happen?” he yelled at me.
Now the first girl in off-white seemed to have been the reason for his wait, and he had been hoping I would take advantage of her while she was in a vulnerable position.
“No,” I shot back, “she could be my daughter!”
The possibility caused Beau to stare at me with anger in his eyes.

The next thing I knew I was in the town walking to an unknown destination when I noticed A group of mentally handicapped men shovelling a white muck into holes in the sidewalk. I started to go around via the road, but suddenly found myself skirting through the wet white stuff, hoping it was dry.
It wasn’t! My shoes and the lower part of my clothes were a mess with it. At the same time the mentally challenged were giving me the evil eye. I got out of there fast, crossed the street a little further down when I saw another of the mentally challenged manoeuvring a rattletrap of a truck to an awkward position. He almost backed into me, and I gave him a stern look. The next thing I knew he was out of the truck with a big German Sheppard at his side, both giving me the evil eye.
I continued on my way. He and the dog followed. I turned to look at the dog. He was crouched in the attack position, his mouth open, fangs slavering, warning me of imminent attack. At that moment I found myself in the company of two police officers. I stationed myself behind them as, with a snarl, the dog sprang. He came as fast as the demon on my back did that time when I was partially out of body with the intent to challenge it. The dog was just a blur!
At that precise moment, a car sped by hitting the dog, and possibly its master, because I found myself outside a building, which took donations to help that type of handicap.
“Make a donation,” the girl standing on some steps practically ordered. She already had a $20 and another bill in her hand. The $20 seemed thin at the edges.
A guy was working there even though he was from the prison like me. I asked for him.
“He’s a roommate in a way,” I told her, “and I’d rather do it through him.
She called the guy who came out. I put my hand in my pocket and pulled out a thick handful of papers mixed with money. The papers were a surprise to me, but I soon found a clean, crisp $20, which I gave to him as my donation for the death of the dog‘s master…at least, it seemed to be the reason, though all I saw getting killed was the vicious German Sheppard.