I arrived at a command complex. Although ultra futuristic in appearance, full of technology, it was no longer used. I wasn’t associated with it or the military but was familiar with it because of my past, and found it a friendly space. There were no windows and only one door, standard for such places, which were like vaults. Dark blue dominated, with matching carpet and walls. The console positions were all flat black glass with touch screens. As I went about exploring, others entered. I realized that they, like me, were past military. None of us were in the service any longer. We all chatted and introduced ourselves.
We realized some event was taking place. Console positions were powering up on their own, displaying incoming threat analysis. Despite this, we were all in high-spirits. Many people sat at console positions, taking the problem on. As I examined the consoles, I noticed that lines of red and yellow lights circled the positions and were growing brighter. Somehow, I recognized this as a trap. Warning the others, I told them to back off the consoles because something was about to happen. After they all drew back a few feet, the positions opened and emitted spurts of gas. If they’d been where they were, they would have been affected, so my warning saved them. All were grateful.
Things wound down. I got on my hands and knees, checking something out. As I was, I looked up to see a tall, white man enter. I knew he was retired four-star general. He paused as he reached me. I realized I was impeding his way and discovered my legs and feet were somehow under the carpet. As I apologized and laughed, wondering how I’d managed that, he brushed it off as inconsequential and went past. I stood and joined him. We chatted about trivialities and the shook hands and he left.
Others had come in again. One was a black female. I joined her at a table but then was called over by two other women. They were over at a display and had discovered a curtain. It had SLIDELL sewn on in in yellow thread. They asked if that was me. I said that it could be because one, sometimes people used that as a variation of my name, and two, such a misspelling sometimes showed up on correspondence. But, I said, I thought it was doubtful because we were at Bitburg AB in Hahn, Germany, and I’d only been there twice.
I returned to the table in the back and chatted with the seated black woman, sitting beside her as I did. I knew her and we exchanged information about what had been going on in our lives since we’d last seen one another. Others then came in and sat down opposite her. I realized after a moment that people were arriving to pay her homage. I thought it inappropriate to be sitting with her because that was a position of honor and she was the one being honored, but she told me to stay beside her. I did as person after person arrived to tell her how great it had been working with her.
Dream fade out.