I was working in some sort of academic office (maybe the English Dept. at the University of Oregon). It was a holiday of some sort, and we were all waiting for it to be time for us to leave (we were working a half day).
Somehow, I was going to get to ride the Space Shuttle. I think with Jerry Oltion. The pilot was an amalgam astronaut. I think the office had somehow become a NASA airport departure gateway.
I'd just gotten a new ID card made at the academic office. But the font on it had a drop-shadow effect that confused the security card. The student working the gate's kiosk tried scanning my card a few times before he gave up and said, "Oh, I know who you are; just go in."
At this point the shuttle taxied up and I jogged down the short runway. Somehow I had a small plastic red and white cooler in my hands. I sat down on the shuttle.
I remember looking at the seats and a saftey bar and thinking, "Wow. I made it. I'm in a vehicle that's made history!"
There was some sort of discontinuity in the dream.... I was still in the shuttle, and I think we were taxing into a liftoff position, but at the same time I was in a room that had a balcony overlooking a resort swimming pool. There's also something about parachuting and filming skydivers / astronauts.
I opened up the cooler. In the very short time between leaving the gate and entering the shuttle, my ice and Pepsi had gotten mixed up and water had seeped into my digital camera. I took the camera's case apart, dried everything carefully, and prayed that the photos I had taken hadn't been zapped of the card. All the camera components were stretched out on a work table, still connected, and I managed to get the pictures to show up on the LCD screen.
And then the dream turned into a "James and the Purple Crayon" dream, only it was me, in a jail, with a black crayon.