Fighting nausea, I hold the pan at arm’s length and look around the theatre again. Now I can see the Creeper. It’s standing in the doorway of the left-hand aisle, silhouetted against a reddish light from the foyer.

She sees it, too. Her playing falters.

It starts to walk towards the stage. It’s just as Mel described it: a man wearing a simple black suit. The proportions of the body change slightly as it moves, so it’s hard to work out its physical size. The mask has no eyes but is covered in chemical symbols with a complicated bonding pattern. I can’t see the face except for the mouth.

‘You’re not welcome here,’ I tell the Creeper. ‘This is Melodie’s dream. I need to ask you to leave.’

But it doesn’t address me or even acknowledge that I’m here. It keeps going towards her. I’m not really surprised. I get ignored a lot. I’m small and not well dressed and obviously I can be a bit timid. But this is dreamland. I can be whatever I want to be. Besides, Melodie is clearly terrified of this wanker, and we can’t have that. I need to go bolder.

I change myself into the Incredible Hulk. With a big hammer. I’ll be lucky if I come off like that diminutive chef who threatens people with her spoon on those new Bisto ads. I’m sure I could have done better if I’d had more time to think up a plan, but in the heat of the moment it’s easy to go for the default that you have in your head.

With my giant hammer in one hand and my little dustpan full of bones and whatnot in the other, I stomp down the aisle to intercept the Creeper before it gets to the stage. But the same dream logic that lets me turn into the Incredible Hulk lets the Creeper teleport instantly to stand right over poor Melodie. She gives a jolt of fear. Her super-shiny hair swings back as she leans away from the Creeper, her face drawn, eyes showing a lot of white.

This is my moment. It’s going to be excellent. I’ll get to have new cards printed: ‘Dream Bouncer’. I will so enjoy throwing the Creeper out of this dream.

‘Hey, oi!’ I yell and stomp onstage, breaking a few boards. I swing my hammer menacingly, and it just misses taking out the harp.

The Creeper turns to me. ‘Stay out of this,’ it says. ‘This line of work isn’t for you.’

It has an American accent. That’s interesting, since Mel is from Canada.

‘I won’t stay out of it,’ I say in my deep Hulk voice. ‘Melodie asked me to protect her, and that’s what I’m going to do.’

The thing grabs my arm and suddenly I’m normal-me again, wearing an old tracksuit that smells a little murky. I have braces on my teeth, just as if I’m thirteen again.

What is happening?

‘You can’t do that,’ I snap. ‘I’m the Dream Bouncer! You’re just an ugly shoe! So take that!’