a poem that falls under the category of theft by finding...

In the dream, I had driven to Bangor. I do not drive. I walked around a store for what seemed like forever. I was looking for music. I found magazines and books. I was mistaken for an old friend. Someone who had done aerial training in New York. I accidentally closed a door. I was addressed as Matt and then embarrassed as the store clerk had applied a Post-it note warning against closing it. I walked around,  then left. I had another store to walk around. But I could not find my car. I walked through the parking lot. I walked through a restaurant. The buildings were replaced by columnated ruins. For all I know, I am still walking.