It was a long one – this nightmare I had – but one part was so terrible and it wasn’t the part about me on a large bicycle on the highway having all sorts of problems. It was the part where I was in a taxi – an old boxy yellow one – and Sydney was somehow didn’t get in and was racing after the cab as it went faster and faster.

I screamed at the driver to stop, but he was driving from the back seat looked like a sadistic KGB thug . . . not that I have knowingly seen any. I started banging on the windshield and it began giving way like an odd sugar glass concoction. But all the time, Sydney was running harder and harder. It was awful, just awful.

I am still in that period of getting my emotions out of that after dream state that sometimes leaves you vowing you will never close your eyes again.