We see a small plane circle and then go down into the lake. I think I may be involved. I am the first to arrive at the pilot hatch but am hesitant to go in. When a searcher arrives I stand watch and keep his oxygen tube unkinked. But there is nothing but polyester stuff sacks and cinches underwater. Maybe the pilot escaped before the plane went down, or maybe it never had one. Later, we are moving into a new fraternity house on top of the hill. It is dark and humid when I get a chance to see my room. Back in the house where I was born, there is an old time song circle outside. I start to sing and play mandolin but have to go back inside to clean up a can of orange juice concentrate that gooped through three drawers when I went on vacation. The kitchen understands.