I'm at the house where I lived when I was 12 to 14. I am a grader in a college chemistry course. I have quizzes to grade and return. I know the answers and all I have to do is copy on thirty papers. I go out and start a fire in edge of yard where a woodpile is outside fence parallel with alley. I start it two or three places, thinking it will heat the house twenty yards away, since a pipe-chimney points upwards--no rational connection to the house. The fire gets out of hand and I'm late for class, and mother is too crippled to put it out. I think of water--too big for buckets. I decide to throw burning logs into snow. Only thirty minutes left to get to class. Great frustration, and anger at myself for starting the fire. Why did I do it? I ask as dream ends.