Astronaut dream

Last night I dreamed not that I went to Manderlay again but that I was the first holder of an Irish passport to be sent into space.

It gets better. The rocket was blasting off from Bunratty, a place in Co Clare I have never been to but know is famous for having a pub called Durty Nellys (subs, please check). I was in my spacesuit and perspiring heavily and so, even though the countdown was to commence at any moment, I undid my harness, exited the capsule, slithered down a ladder and ran off in search of a refreshing bath.

Along the way I somehow obtained a box of chocolates, a big box, golden and with a ribbon done in a bow and a silk flower glued to the top. Anyway, after dashing around for a bit, I went haring through the revolving door of a very grand country hotel, still in my spacesuit, and slid to a halt at the reception desk, where - amazingly - I was able to use the chocolates as a bargaining chip to persuade the manager to evict a couple of guests from an outdoor hot-tub.

And then the marvellous sensation of undoing all those zips and collars and cuffs and fastenings and plunging in to the warm and bubbly water - though it turned out to be unexpectedly deep and when I looked up I could see the surface 20 or 30ft above with the sunlight glistening on it.

I went up for air after what seemed like an eternity and there was a hotel flunky bearing a silver tray with a pot of coffee and some cucumber sandwiches and my mobile telephone, which was flashing with a call from one half of the Commitments who wanted to know what I thought I was doing and to get back to the office quickly.

And then I woke up and turned off the alarm on my phone.