… and I wake up, blinking, in my bed, the alarm on my phone ringing and the sunlight streaming through the window.

The top of my head hurts a bit where I hit the ceiling – except that was in my dream, so I must have bumped it on the wall behind my bed.

Turning my head to the side, I see Seb in the morning light, his eyes shut, breathing gently, making occasional little snuffling noises.

Above my head hangs the Dreaminator, the glow of the little stones barely visible in the light. It twists slowly, even though there’s no air to move it. Perhaps it’s my breath: I am breathing quite heavily, though I don’t feel tired.

What the blinking, flipping heck just happened?

It really did happen. Didn’t it? I ‘controlled a dream’. It was like I was awake, but I was definitely asleep.

How long did the dream last? Not all night, surely? Do I remember all of it? Could I do it again?

Gradually, I realise I can recall it all perfectly, which is unusual in itself. Think about it: as soon as you try to remember a dream, it starts slipping away. It’s like trying to hold on to smoke. But I just lie there, recalling all the details as if it really happened: the big dog-mammoth peeing like a burst hydrant, Fit Billy talking Chinese, the floating, the crocodile under the desk …

My breathing returns to normal and the sunlight gets stronger, and I’m fully awake and smiling. I hear Mam get up and go to the bathroom before putting her head round our door.

‘Oh, hi, Malky,’ she says. ‘You’re awake! You look happy. Sleep well?’

It’s not really a question. She’s gone by the time I answer, ‘I think so.’

I look across at my brother who could sleep through an earthquake. ‘Seb! Seb! Hey – wake up – did it work for you?’

He rubs his head, making his hair stand on end, and yawns, and runs his tongue round his morning-dry mouth. Then he looks up at his Dreaminator, bites his lip in deep thought and eventually says, ‘I’m not sure. I’m trying to remember.’

‘You didn’t dream anything?’

Then Mam comes back in, saying that Dad’s on her phone. (This means she has had to call him to remind him to wish us good luck on our first day of term because he forgot to call last night, like he did last term. He’s very forgetful, is Dad. I’m not sure it’s all his fault.)

So it’s Dad that I tell first. I tell him I had a really odd dream, and he listens, but he doesn’t really get it. I must be gabbling and not making much sense, because at one point he says, ‘You okay, Malky?’ But then he has to cut the call short or he’ll be late and to say hi to Seb from him, that he’ll call him later. We both know he’ll forget.

The rest is all toothpaste, toast, cereal and Seb’s missing gym shoes. I’m up and dressed and downstairs, eating breakfast, before Seb reappears. I haven’t said anything to Mam, as I’m still trying to work out what the dream was all about and, for that matter, whether it even happened.

You probably just dreamed it all, Malky.

I mean: that would be possible, wouldn’t it? I could dream that I was awake in a dream?

Seb sits at the table and starts to pile butter on to a slice of toast, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. Mam notices.

‘What’s amusing you this morning, Sonny Jim? And easy on the butter. We don’t own a cow,’ she says, pouring cereal into his bowl.

‘I’ve remembered my strange dream last night,’ he lisps, causing toast crumbs to spray on to the table and Mam to tut. I pause, a spoonful of cereal halfway to my mouth.

‘Oh aye? Your dream thingummy worked then!’ says Mam.

‘I was in this classroom with some other kids. And Billy from next door was there. He was the teacher but he couldn’t speak English.’

Mam smiles at this. ‘His Geordie accent is so strong, I sometimes wonder myself! Sounds like a typical crazy dream!’

‘Yeah, and … and …’ Seb was trying to remember. ‘There was this massive dog, like … like the mamuffs in Kobi, weeing all over a football pitch or something …’

I have put my spoon down by now. My mouth is hanging open, waiting to hear what he’s going to say next, yet at the same time knowing exactly what is coming.

He’s going to describe you floating, Malky …

‘… and then Malky was there and he started floating, right there in the middle of the cave-room thing. Oh, and Kobi from the book was there too! And Malky floated higher and higher till his head hit the ceiling …’

I instinctively put my hand up to my head where my scalp is still a little bit tender from banging it on the wall.

‘And, every time I tried to pull him down, he floated back up again!’

Mam laughs, and I am about to say something when there’s the honk of a car horn from outside and everything is in a rush as Seb grabs his stuff and dashes outside to get in the car with the twins whose mum takes them to Seb’s school.

‘See ya later, alligator!’ he shouts, and waits for me to respond.

‘In a while … crocodile.’ I almost whisper it, I’m so deep in thought. ‘Mam?’ I say after the front door has slammed and Seb and the twins have gone. Mam doesn’t look round but gives a distracted, ‘Mmm?’ as she’s clearing up the breakfast things.

What are you going to say, Malky? It sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it? Perhaps just say it?

‘Me … and Seb … had the same dream last night.’

‘Have you got your clean gym stuff? Oh, did you? That’s nice!’

‘No, I mean – we had the same dream, and …’

‘I ironed it for you, by the way. I used to get that with your Uncle Pete sometimes.’

I look at her with surprise. ‘You mean you were in the same dream at the same time?’

Her turn to look at me now. She wipes her hands on a towel and her lip curls slightly. ‘Erm … no, Malky. I’ve no idea how that would work! No, I mean we’d dream about similar things, like …’

I interrupt. ‘No, Mam, not similar as in nearly the same. I mean exactly the same. Seb was in my dream, and I was in his!’

Mam’s eyes crinkle at the edges and a slow smile spreads across her tired-looking face. She shakes her head at me. ‘Malky Bell! If you could only turn that imagination of yours in the direction of your schoolwork this year, your teachers will be much happier, and I wouldn’t have these worry lines, would I?’

She leans over me and kisses the top of my head. ‘And don’t forget – you’ve signed a Conduct Contract. Come on, scoot – or you’ll be late on the first day of term.’

Oh yeah. The school ‘Conduct Contract’. I hadn’t forgotten. I’ve a horrible feeling that things are going to get difficult.