The Nathren Disturbance

I know this is the nature of dreams, but I feel it must be said.  I remember very little of the dream, only the end before I woke up.  
I was in a large complex of buildings, perhaps a University.  I think I worked there in some capacity.  I was running through the halls with some urgency.  I was holding a large object, flat and metal, about as thin as a cookie sheet, square, about the size of my torso. 
I exited the building onto a balcony with a stairwell.  I ran into a large black man with an African accent.  I think I knew him.  I asked him why he was here.  He paused.  I knew he might be involved somehow.  "I am sorry, my friend".  He was wearing an olive green jacket.  He pulled back his sleeves to uncover that his hand was completely balled up in duct tape, with a gun nozzle sticking out.  He fired a few times, hit the sheet of metal, and I jumped over the railing, down the stairs, talking to somebody on a radio.

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