A very tall figure

Finally broke that dry spell! This was a really fun one. Emotions got the best of me at the end, but it was great while it lasted. Color legend: Non-dream Dream Lucid Lucid #113: Woodrow the Giant I am in a first-person shooter video game where I am entering an airport. One of the people I am with slips some kind of blaster into my pocket as we are walking through airport security. Will not that set off the metal detectors? I think of all this as just a game, though, so I give it a try. An alarm sounds, surprisingly soft but unmistakable. I keep walking, just in case they think it was someone else behind me. As I head into a broad, bustling concourse, I see a few security guys heading toward me from different directions. They are dressed in plain clothes, which makes them seem less official and more menacing. I change directions and they change with me. I know I am caught. One guy has his hand on his right hip like he is ready to pull a gun, so I decide to be first. I pull the banana-shaped blaster out of my jacket pocket and start shooting. My first shot catches the guy right in the chest and he crumples to the floor. I immediately realize that this is not a video game, but a dream. I remember goals: meet <PERSON> at the Alamo and Tasks of the Month. Since this is already a video game scenario, I think that it will be easy to pull Art in. "[NewArtemis], I know you are right there behind me." No response. By now the other security guys have drawn their guns, although they oddly have not fired yet. I shoot one more of them and he collapses to the ground. Still, nobody returns fire. "[NewArtemis], a little help!" A woman walking nearby turns around. She is wearing jeans and has dirty blonde hair, not at all the usual hair color for Art's DC, but it is definitely her! "Hey there!" I say, thinking that it will be fun to have her take care of the last of these security guys. But when I look for them, they are gone -- everyone is walking through the airport concourse like nothing has happened. I turn back to Art. "You dyed your hair...?" I half-comment, half-ask. (I sincerely doubt this.) "Hey," she says, with a wry half-smile, ignoring the whole hair thing. We hug and I say, "Okay, that is Basic. You feel like punching <PERSON>?" (Advanced Task of the Month.) She nods. "I would love to punch that guy." (We have never discussed <PERSON>, so I am likely projecting here.) I glance around for <PERSON>. "Let us do it," I say to Art, and then call out to the crowd: "<PERSON>! I know you are here!" We walk along the concourse for perhaps twenty feet when I spot a huge man to our left. Somehow, even with everything around him brightly lit, he is hidden in shadow. The man is at least ten feet tall, probably closer to twelve, and he is flanked by two normal-sized men who do not look like they are doing anything in particular. "Is that you, <PERSON>?" As soon as I say this, the man's face is illuminated and it is definitely <PERSON> -- long, expressionless face, glasses, the whole bit. Weirdly, he is dressed in the style of a Catholic priest with a cassock and clerical collar. He strides toward us quickly and moves up very close to crowd me. <PERSON> does not attack but just stands there towering over me, no expression on his face, his eyes unfocused. I have lost some emotional control and I am starting to feel fearful. Art circles around on my right, grimacing a little, her hands balled into fists. She can help me, but I know that for Task I know that I need to hit the guy. I try to calm myself down while imagining myself leaping up and doing some kind of superman punch. I am freaking out a little bit, though, and the dream falls apart.