I have a friend who, as a teenager, dreamt of Jarvis Cocker whenever she felt sad or confused. He acted as a wise teacher, who in the dream would come to talk to her and in the morning she would wake up, knowing how to slalom by the impasse in her life.

If only Morrissey would serve such a sensible purpose in my dreams. Sometimes he doesn't even bother to speak to me - he sees me over his shoulder, and walks away wreathed in contempt - occasionally Dream Morrissey doesn't like me very much.

Most of my Morrissey dreams are in gig situations, presumably because this is, in reality, where I've "met" him. I'm yet to dream about him working as a checkout girl in Tesco's, or shimmying through the corridors of my school wielding a plimsoll, while I hunt desperately for my PE kit before an exam. The gigs are never in typical venues - either the way into the auditorium is so labyrinthine that I get lost and miss the gig, or Morrissey decides to play in a department store stood on my auntie's sideboard. As is the way of these things, the venue will twist about and change into the bedroom of a terraced house in a rain-soaked suburb, and I will wonder how on earth I'm supposed to get home.

I have very nice conversations with Morrissey sometimes in dreams. A few of the gig dreams have had an audience of about seven, so Morrissey doesn't bother to sing and instead sits on a chair and has a gossipy chat. Once, I spotted a Ritz cracker on the floor in front of the stage, so Morrissey and I merrily recited Alan Bennett's "A Cream Cracker Under The Settee" ("Fancy, there's a cream cracker under the settee. I wonder how long that's been there? I can't remember the last time I had cream crackers." And so on, and so forth. I was amazed I could still remember it from my GCSE Drama days).

Perhaps because Nancy Sinatra said in The Importance of Being Morrissey that he gives good hugs, I've had several dreams where Morrissey has wrapped me in his arms and cuddled me. And they are always very nice hugs - they feel uncannily real. Although at this juncture, I should point out that I have never had a rude dream about Morrissey, unless the one where he let me rub his nipple counts. One dream I had began with me stood in the wings of a stage. Morrissey burst through the curtains to hug me, and said, "You'll need this" - he presented me with a book called 1001 Facts About Morrissey. A few months later, this suggested the title of "1001 Reasons Why We Love Boz".

Which reminds me - his various bandmates appear in my dreams as well, and sometimes in a rather X-rated fashion, so that I wake up blushing. There's been snogging, fondling, a shopping trip, a bassist in Speedos, a fist-fight... and a couple of other things that I can't bear to mention.

When my grandma was very ill, I dreamt that I was in a Big Wheel at a fair and Morrissey was sat next to me, singing "Grandma in a Coma" to cheer me up, so he said. It was a wonderfully warm dream. Morrissey appears in dreams as a vague acquitance, administering a hug or a scowl. At the moment, I have a cold, and last night I dreamt that I was in a cafe, blowing my nose (how elegant!). Morrissey walked by, stopped, and said, "Oh, hello - are you still ill?" "Yes, I am." "Oh, poor old you," he said, and smiled kindly as he went through a door, into someone else's dream.