WHEN I was about eight or nine, I had two mates called John and Steven Brennan. They were great lads, and we played together a lot.

Just before the family moved to the Isle of Man I had a dream in which I was an Egyptian boy Pharaoh and Steve was my servant.

Even then, you could say I had ideas above my station.

This particular dream lasted for five nights and so began my lifelong fascination with ancient Egypt. Before that time, I had only ever skimmed books about this fascinating and remarkably advanced civilisation and we hadn't, as far as I can remember, been studying it at primary school.

As someone who believes in God without classing themselves as devoutly religious, I'm sceptical about the idea of reincarnation but experiences like this make you think.

Dreams have always fascinated me - the idea of this alternative reality being played out in your head. As a kid I had a lot of nightmares and once I dreamt I was sitting on the gas pipe stretching over the Bridgewater Canal near the Bay Malton pub in Oldfield Brow, only for the gas pipe to start sinking nearer and nearer to the water. Even now, when I cross the bridge opposite this gas pipe, a shiver goes down my spine. Dreams are powerful things alright.

But one of my most bizarre happened a few weeks ago when I dreamt I was at a big posh do with former Manchester United star Roy Keane. I was saying things like "It's a real honour to meet you" and "People are wrong about you." Now, I'm a die hard City fan and in the past I've been one of Keane's harshest critics - so what do you make of that? Weird. Maybe in the future I'll switch sides? No chance - that's about as likely as me going to see Jim Davidson live or buying a Will Young record.

My biggest grumble is that I never meet any of my heroes in my dreams. I'm never at the front of an REM or Killers gig or taking tea with Mandela. I also rarely dream about glamorous celebrities - it would be nice, just for once, to share a hot tub with Britney Spears or Lisa Stansfield or take Demi Moore out for dinner. Maybe I could be marooned on a desert island with Girls Aloud. It'd be even nicer to do one of those afore mentioned things for real, but, like most lesser mortals, I'll have to be satisfied with my dreams.