One night a few years ago I woke from a dead sleep by the smell of cigarette smoke. It must have been three in the morning, but the smell of a fresh cigarette was so close it was as if someone were standing in the room with me and smoking. I don't smoke, and my neighbors don't smoke, either, except for Dick, who after a shift at the sewage treatment plant occasionally smokes a cigar on his porch. I was puzzled, but also drugged by the Sandman, and as the smell faded I fell back asleep.
A few weeks later I was eating dinner when I smelled fresh, pungent cigarette smoke again. This time I went outside and walked around my house. I couldn't smell the smoke outside, and I didn't see anyone smoking…
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