When I was a toddler or younger, at night I would see a figure of a man walk into my bedroom and watch me. I would either hide under my cover and sleep there, or, go to my mum and dad’s bedroom. My dad would refill my drink, come back and give it to me. I would drink it until I was asleep. I knew these couldn’t be dreams, because when I woke up, I would be in my mum and dad’s bed, with my half drunken bottle of orange juice. I had these things happen to me until we moved house. My ‘dreams’ stopped at my very first night in my new home.