Ann and Megan and I were at some kind of weekend (or longer?) festival. It was based around but not limited to Capoeira. Things were just starting to roll. There were several old buildings, in a rambling red-carpet-inn style. The frontmost mansion was where the owners of the land lived. Our relationship with them was somewhere between acquaintance and friendship. I was wandering around, trying loosely to find Ann and Megan. Megan was a little older than she is now, but still in the single digits (I dont recall anything about any other kid(s)). I had something I kinda wanted to tell or show Ann. In my wanderings, I passed where the roda was getting set up. Some young woman was starting to play on the drums a little. It was sunny and dusty. I heard some voice saying, If you dont want to play Capoeira, you can... but I was planning to play, after I was finished looking around and so on. I felt good. I thought, This is perfect. This is just what I needed. Also in my wanderings I went into a little pub. It was dark but well-lit (?), pleasantly crowded. The serving girls were very young. One was probably around ten, the other maybe twelve or fourteen. They were shirtless. The 1214-year old caught my eye and smiled very coquettishly. I was moved. Her small breasts were arresting! I felt a twinge of taboo-guilt, intensified by inability not to associate her with my own daughter, but she was very seductive and comely, so I looked and looked again. Back outside, I was confronted by a bearish man, dark-haired, bearded. A little like a non-cartoon version of Bluto, only taller, not fat. He attacked me. I leapt into the air, retreating, stayed aloft in a graceful arc over about twenty feet. I knew how to do this because of Capoeira. I noticed that some people saw me and I was glad the move had come off well. The guy kept coming after me. We exchanged a few moves, some feints and skevas and footwork, but his advances were a little more forceful than I was prepared to handle again. I kept up the jumping retreat. When I started thinking too much about the flying, the flying didnt work so well; I kept barely out of his reach. Finally I was up against one of the larger buildings, maybe it was the main mansion. There was a wooden structure, almost a fire-escape, scaffolding, flights of stairs, small landings.... I tried flying up it, but again the flying just barely worked so I had to supplement with climbing. I did manage to gain altitude on the bearish guy, though, and finally turned around and bore down on him with high energy. I drove him back down to the ground. Thinking about what I did next, imagining it, made it work: I pulled a knife out of seemingly nowhere, brandished it, but while he was concerning himself with that I pulled a smaller one, a pocketknife really, with my other hand, and threw it, with inexplicable expertise, right into his right eye. He died on the spot, I think. It didnt seem like a terribly big deal, not highly dramatic nor particularly criminal. Just part of the whole scene. I was glad I had won, but not flabbergasted about it. I think I found Ann and Megan shortly after that. Then, after waking up, I went to Saturday class at the Southtown. Wayne told us to loosen up our upper bodies in the ginga. He demonstrated, and I saw that his hips were leading, and the junction between his hips and his torso was very loose and free. I tried it, and actually started to feel it this time. He said you can be more ready to move, out of the way for instance, when you do it like that. And I thought about flying. I realized that the key to flying and the ginga was relaxation. With my hips relaxed, the ginga felt good and not tiresome. And I imagined that had I had that attitude in the dream, I probably would not have had trouble at all getting airborne. It just felt like it was exactly how you would fly if you could fly. Maybe you can. Maybe I can. I can.