I'm at work, which is like a set of bleachers. I talk to a lot of people, and go to a meeting about dial-a-bus. My cousin Terence comes driving back into town. He comments to me that he thinks he'll hang out around town for the winter and maybe permanently if the XXX industry will get its act together (furniture or construction). Terence is also sort of my brother Dwight. I'm glad he's around. He travels so much. A race car with a man, chubby, with a guitar and some woman comes to town. He sets up for a concert. I am getting some of my clothes that are laying around the bleachers as he is setting up. I ask someone where the blue bag of clothes is. She says, "Over there." As I go to it, the man with the guitar steps his foot in it as he is playing and singing. I get down on my knees and look up at him and politely ask him to move. He does so. I pull out various turtle neck sweaters. He is singing "Ghost Riders in the Sky." I sing along with him. He hears me and starts singing the high part. I sing real low, at the lowest edge of my voice limit. I forget some of the words. The women just look at me, like I'm infringing on this man's concert. He's being somewhat patronizing and I'm showing off, hoping someone will notice my nice voice.