I was in a large building – like a shopping mall or a court house … the formalities seemed to fall somewhere between the two. A bulk of the story leading up to the event was really just me walking around with friends, being excited about finding a certain place to eat, and so forth…
Then I kind of got separated from my friends and instead found myself in a lobby of sorts. There were teller stands spread every so often across the marble floor, so it might’ve been a bank, and there was a guy in the middle giving what sounded like an important presentation. It was then that I noticed two tennis ball-shaped objects in the pockets of my coat … that I didn’t recognize.
I felt them up inside of the pockets, for fear of pulling them out in public and scaring everyone, but I knew that they weren’t mine and somehow I knew that they had to be bad. After pacing around for a while, I finally found a long hallway that ended in a staircase leading downstairs, so trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, I quickly pulled them out of each pocket and threw them down the stairs as far as I could…
It was about 30 seconds later that they exploded.
What was strange was that although the blast drove everyone outside, even though it was sheltered enough by the hallway that nobody got hurt, a subsequent and much larger blast in the streets ultimately drove everyone back inside. I remember laying on the plaza sidewalk in front of the huge building, and people were shouting for us to get inside so that they could close the heavy guards in front of the doors of the building. My Dad, surprisingly, was lying a few feet away, calling out and asking if we should try to make for the car, but as the smoke settled in over us to where I couldn’t even see him anymore, I yelled that we’d never make it and grabbed his hand to lead him inside.
The whole time, I wondered whether I was one of the bad guys or one of the good guys…