I am at the airport, standing at a checkpoint waiting to ascend the stairs into the gate area. The official behind the desk has my suitcase, a black hardshell with four roller wheels, but when I looked behind the desk to retrieve it, it is missing, replaced by a black soft case with wide straps. Thinking my bag may have been taken upstairs into the gate area, I go up but although there are numerous knapsacks on the floor awaiting pickup, my suitcase is not among them. I look for my carry-on packs and find the smaller one then realize that my other pack is still on my back.
Now I am in a neonatal hospital unit where everything is pink - the walls, the furniture, the cubicles and the lighting. It seems odd to me that this neonatal unit would be in the airport. The unit appears empty except for a woman with wavy blonde hair hanging down around her round face. I recognize her, having seen her previously in the same neonatal unit. I greet her but when I remind her that we have met here before, she begins to cry. I realize that she is crying because she believes herself to be stuck in that area but I do not attempt to talk to her about it.
Instead I go out into the main corridor then I think for the first time to look at my ticket to find out which gate my flight will be leaving from. It is gate 20 and my flight leaves at 8:30 PM, about 25 minutes from now. Signs at a kiosk direct me down the corridor to the left for gates 15 to 20. I walk down the corridor past gates 15 through 18, but there are no gates beyond 18. Puzzled, I ask someone where gate 20 is and they tell me it is at the far end of the airport. I look at my watch to see if I have time to get there and it is 8:45 PM. I have already missed the flight. I wake up wondering if my suitcase made it onto the flight, but not particularly worried that I did not.