‘Only if that’s OK,’ Mel says. ‘It’s just that I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in so long.’

Antonio reaches over and touches her hair, very softly. I see his nostrils flare as he looks at her, and I flush with embarrassment just watching them.

‘Getting to sleep is difficult for Melodie,’ he says, gazing at her. ‘But you have the wonderful ASMR. We both listen to your channel.’

I’m a little surprised, because of course I do ASMR as part of my therapy, but I’ve let my channel lie fallow for months. I didn’t think anybody still followed it.

I started making ASMR recordings in my second year at uni when my parents were splitting. It’s not supposed to affect you so much when you’re technically an adult, but I didn’t deal with the break-up well. Everything seemed to be melting down. To comfort me, Grandad gave me my first wearable – it was a necklace – and although he said it was supposed to be for researching papers, I used it the same as everyone else: to go on BigSky. I got good at surfing free introductory offers to play games and hang out, and sometimes I paid for a little Reality Therapy just to shock myself and put my problems into perspective. Then the gangland guy I was following in Reality Therapy got stabbed in the bathroom of Penn Station in New York, because the BigSky neural interface made it feel like you were really there. It was a little too much reality for me, quite honestly.

I ended up focusing on ASMR because it’s peaceful and friendly. Such an improvement on reality.

I made my own recordings for self-therapy, but then people started following me and I got interested in helping others. I didn’t talk to the camera, or offer Spacetime sharing. Unlike most of the big ASMRtists, I’m not beautiful, and I wouldn’t feel comfortable putting my face out there. I worked strictly in audio, creating sound spaces full of triggers. I prided myself on being able to get tingles out of people who otherwise don’t experience them, and even though it wasn’t about the money, I made a nice little side income from website donations my last year of uni.

The narcolepsy put an end to all that.

Now the only time I can do ASMR with people is live and in person. I use it to help them fall asleep for our dreamwork sessions. Of course, I fall asleep, too. Then I slip into their dream and do my thing. That’s my gift, the blessing that comes with my drug-trial narcolepsy curse. I don’t know anybody else who can hack dreams, and when I tried to tell BigSky about it, they didn’t believe me and wanted me to sign a bunch of stuff and submit to vague ‘tests’. Then O told me not to trust BigSky because they are backed with criminal money these days – and I guess she would know, because that’s why she stopped supporting them even though she was one of their original crowdfunders. When I started my dream therapy business, O insisted I go out on my own, and here I am.