Dream Diary Entry recorded August 20, 2018

That dream was certainly interesting.

I was in a building that possibly was my workplace, but in ways was not, with a group of people who were all there for some sort of investigation or re-investigation. There were parts I don't remember about receiving instructions and reporting to rooms, but eventually I was standing in front of a display board on which was attached a large piece of paper with a drawing I recognized as mine: a diagram with words and lines, almost a flowchart, which was a semi-comical illustration of a conspiracy theory. Others who seemed to be supervising the group or with whom I had worked in the past - the diagram and the people were wholly the invention of last night's dream - looked at the diagram and were saying things I couldn't hear or couldn't understand. They seemed a little interested, and I wondered why my old diagram had been rediscovered and displayed like this.

Then there was a period where I was reporting to an office for a part of the process where I had to take off all my clothes except underwear, as did many others in the group of people who were here. Before or after that, I began walking down a hallway and discovered I had a golf club in my hand and was going down the hall to enter officially a tournament. It was a kind of a public procession, in that people in the hallway, folks with whom I had worked, were seeing and waving to me as I approached the exit to participate. One group of people were dressed in what looked like surgical garb. Among them was Joe Mantegna, and they were my co-workers. He and they greeted me and wished me well in the tournament as I walked past.

Then, I was back in my nearly disrobed state, and I turned left to a room with benches and storage shelves. I needed to find my clothes and other items, as did everyone else there except for occasional coordinators of this process. There was a sequence to it, seemingly, and I was later in the sequence, possibly because it was alphabetic. (The trials of being a Smith, it seems.) Almost everyone had gotten items back and were leaving the room before I started to have items returned to me. My clothes, shoes, and the other articles I had brought with me had not showed up yet. A man brought me one of my CDs, a dream-invented posthumous album by Frank Zappa, saying "This one's no good." I smiled without disagreeing, though I knew the album was quite good and one of my favorites. Then, someone else handed me a couple of other CDs I owned, but none of these were items I had brought to the other room. None were my clothes.

Then, I either walked or simply found myself in (it seemed to have been a "dream cut" where the events resembled the sequence of a movie rather than a continuous experience) an outdoor area, sitting or standing at the edge of a driveway or parking area, looking at a large, gray building on a gently sloping hill. I was just staring at the building I seem to remember because I did not know where to go or where my clothes and other items had ended up. After a while, some of the people I knew, who had been in the room with the display of my drawing, walked up and started talking to me. They were wearing robes with white edges and mainly colored a moderately dark red somewhere between dried papaya and pomegranate. What they were saying I could not understand fully, but as they began to walk around me, they either said or I came to understand that they were initiating me in some way. After circling for a bit (clockwise? not sure), they stepped toward me and, one by one, gently kissed me on the top of my head. After this, one or more of them said, quite clearly, "Tophesatus: sweet of the sweet." Their saying this phrase made me feel a strange sensation in my head, near the top of my head, and I woke up.