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…
I have a friend who is taking part in a fragrance study right now. The study is double blind, and even the consumer testing company administering it doesn't know much about it. But what the study is about isn't all that interesting to my normally prurient friend. What fascinates her most is how the study's participants talk about scent.