Angola

Obviously it was much clearer this morning, if that can be said of dreams... since dreams are so wispy.
Problem is I can't understand my scribbles at the moment.

Let me try to remember ... we were in my room looking out that window again.
It was a factory of eva hats.
The girl with white hair (Christie from DOA) looked up and saw us so we have to run.
We reached the small broomcloset above the stairs and Joyce pulled down the old ceiling hatch with relief. A small plastic hello kitty dangler marked how long ago we've played there. I stuck my arm in... no way we could all fit... it wasn't even deep enough. We can't hide there.
"I used to fit in there" Joyce kythed.
We split up.
The Legion were after us. The Legion of kids or something. Five of them. They were all in the violet Wonder Twins costume (with cape). I was on the other side of the poolside and I could see them through the holes on the wall *location: ica poolside*
They can't cross the pool of course. They can however run to the far side together to where we were.

Cameron was in a grey suit. (Alan Ruck, google, Ferris Bueler)he heaved off a wooden door and slammed it over another. He opened the door. We walked through.
We passed by Daphne. She was very pregnant with very stick-thin legs. Velma was useless. She was helping her into the yellow VW. Fred should have been there waving goodbye.

We were in a narrow dark alleyway with doors one after another at the right side of the building. Cameron unhinged one easily. It had a decorative glass window, very pretty. It must be his power to use doors as portals. He put this one over a boring gate looking door and I'm glad the glass didn't shatter. He ran away without using the door. Perhaps to make our pursuers think that he used that door. I went the other way.

Passed an old car in the dark driveway. I wondered what would happen if he put a door over the car door. Would it work?

There are a few people by the walls. It is dark and so are they. There is a man on the street by the pavement with a boombox.

I heard the berimbau. This was Mestre. He was playing alone. The dark man with a knitted muslim white cap was playing the berimbau by the wall. I asked to play with the Mestre. My legs were stiff from running and my ankle hurt but I did not feel nervous, excited or anything. I just wished to play with him.

I hate my game, I kythed. He merely smiled, he was old, wrinkled, crooked and very brown. He turned me to negativa and to role. Helped my stiff legs turn. Au cabeca role, high then low. He was just grinning like a fool. Ponte. I want to show him my better game.

Thank you for the game we kythed each other, I woke up.

I played with the Mestre. He went along with my thread of thought even if it was me who asked to join in his solo game.