I snuck into a shabby, cheap looking version of the central room of the Deathstar. Outside this room were open hallways surrounded by open fields. I saw a smaller version of the UFO I’d seen a few months ago (in a conscious dream experience where a ‘typical’ UFO craft, about 60ft wide, flew overhead illuminating with crystal clarity) The object glided smoothly into this Deathstar room & I eagerly gave it my full attention for concerns that I may lose sight of it if I didn’t stare. I had a video camera; I knew I had to film it. As it landed, about 20ft away, it morphed into a curved cuboid shaped ‘gunmetal black’ object of intense technology. I walked towards it and noticed a glow that was cleanly suspended around its circumference. I could sense the energy, and instinctively knew it could be harnessed by human connection. It felt like a ‘touch screen’ device. I placed my palms on the post-UFO mechanism & felt a sudden rush of soothing pure pulsating energy that ran throughout my body. The entire device lit up a bright white-blue. It was overwhelming, but the overwhelming feeling was the thought of being caught; no time for contemplating this ultra-tech equipment, because whose was this? It flew in on it’s own accord but surely somebody made or owns this great potential? The worry swept over within the space of the 2 or 3 seconds that I ‘used’, or came into ‘contact’ with the object. I felt like an alien on private property. Walking out of the room casually but full of anx, I hold my camera bag closely as I make it outside & begin to move at faster pace. I reach a few familiar friendly faces, but as I am still on private land a stumbly scrawny security guard grabs me; I never really see his nervous face. I attempt to act unaware of any present problem at hand, but there is no exit route without a standard official bag search. It feels like the time I was called out of class in high school, as sources detected that I’d been filming my friends and I pin down younger kids to colour their faces in. I showed the teacher the camera, fast-forwarding past the ‘incriminating’ footage; I then waited until she got bored of watching skateboarding. As the security guard took possession of the camera, I knew I could never prove what had happened, what I had witnessed and experienced. We watched the footage back, with no one else present to exclaim utter joy at the discovery. As we viewed the recording, it felt as if my conscious view of the screen turned into that of a CCTV camera.