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spectacular vastness unless of course we were underground or the house went back a lot further. Even in this unquestioning state I was in awe at the sheer palace of a home around me. People were everywhere talking in groups, like it was a huge palace ball. I would have expected to have seen aristocratic costumes and wigs worn in this scenario but that wasn’t the case. The people were dressed exactly as I had been expecting them to on my way over, in Masonic gowns. Ceremonies seemed to be going on in the halls and I gathered they were being staged for a number of people besides me. I felt that a large process was going on involving batches of people, possibly a routine much like a cattle market. My part seemed to be no more than another subject attending and nobody had even paid much attention to my arrival. Mysterious activity surrounded me. It wasn’t long before I was ushered into one of those halls by someone who offered me a gown to wear exactly like what everyone else wore. I vaguely remember asking my usher if I could wear my jacket under the gown as it contained something very important for the ceremony. She somehow seemed to know what that something was and assured it would be all right. I stood waiting in a queue amongst others as it seemed more like a cattle market now than at first and those queuing were no more aware than cows. Nobody seemed to know why they were there and the interesting thing was the identical look upon their faces. Each of them had an appearance of being in a hypnotic trance mixed with a look of blissful distance. Perhaps I looked that way. Judging by the unsuited confidence I felt and the dreamy look of others, I would say that a great deal of trouble went into keeping us this docile and doubt it was drugs. What I remember as I stood there was the magnificence of the hall. It wasn’t unlike a stately home. The floor was marble like the corridor only this seemed more mosaic similar to the floors found in Roman houses. The ceiling was unnervingly high and decorated with a gorgeous design that I can’t quite remember. I recall the walls having flowing red curtains at intervals and even oil paintings that perhaps a connoisseur of art might recognise, but I didn’t. Nothing about the event really added up and there I was robbed of the capacity to even question it. This aspect in itself was fascinating and characteristic. When I think back to how I felt on the occasion, I realise it was pure Oz. The whole scenario had all the Oz Factor’s dreamy inconsistencies where if a pink dinosaur had emerged from one of those walls, I wouldn’t have criticised it. My head was 66