The alarm clock went off like a bomb, bursting through an uneasy dream I’d been having about running through the school corridors being chased by Scorpus, and I kept slamming doors behind me hoping to get at least two closed doors between me and him, but every time he flung open the previous door before I could shut the next one, if you see what I mean.

In books and films people always sit bolt upright in bed when they wake from a bad dream, but of course no one ever does that in real life. What you do is what I did – just lie there, feeling relieved it was only a dream, waiting for your heartbeat to slow down. Except in this case, I realized, there wasn’t much to feel relieved about. The reality was as bad as the dream.

‘Sam! Are you up yet?’

My mum’s voice came floating up the stairs.

The clock said seven thirty. There was a parallelogram-shaped patch of sunlight on the wall at the end of my bed.

‘Sam! Time to get up!’

I wish it was an hour earlier, I thought.

And that’s when things got seriously weird.

My mum’s voice stopped instantly. The clock said six thirty. And the patch of sunlight wasn’t at the end of my bed, but at the corner of the room. And it wasn’t a parallelogram any more. It was more like a rhombus.

This time I did sit up. Not bolt upright, but I struggled into a sitting position and clutched my head. Maybe I was still dreaming? But it didn’t feel like it. Everything felt real. I felt the softness of the duvet, and the mattress shifting under me, heard birds singing outside and a car driving past in the distance.

This wasn’t possible.

Was it?

‘I wish I had . . . a cup of tea,’ I said.

And a nanosecond later, there it was, gently steaming on my bedside table. In my favourite mug too, a blue one that I call ‘Bluey’. (Yeah, very original, I know.) I took a sip. It was perfect. Just strong enough, with the right amount of milk, and one (level) spoonful of sugar.

It was so weird I wanted to burst out laughing. Could I get anything I wished for?

I wish I had scrambled egg on toast, with grilled bacon and a glass of orange juice. On a tray.

And the tray materialized, neatly balanced on my lap.

The food smelt delicious. I took a few mouthfuls, and it tasted delicious too. But I was too excited to finish it. I wanted to try out more wishes.

I wish I had a million pounds!