Ewan Morrison: 'I was lifted by a sperm whale with Britney, in bikini and cowboy boots, on its back'

LAST TANGO IN PARTICK: EWAN MORRISON
BRITNEY Spears and I have been saving each other's lives on and off for a few years now. The first time, I had just thrown myself from a transatlantic ocean liner. Sinking into the depths I was suddenly lifted by a giant sperm whale with Britney, in bikini and cowboy boots, on its back.

I protested – I didn't want to be saved. "What the hell are you doing in my dream anyway?" She smiled in that all-American way, which only infuriated me more. "I can't stand you or your music, you're a repulsive
capitalist machine-made teenage porno fantasy … I despise every bloody thing you stand for!"

"That's okay," she said, still smiling, "everybody hates me." She offered me her hand, showed me how to stand on the slippery blubber, then offered me the reins. I was impressed by her humility and calm. Side by side on the whale's back we speed towards the horizon.

The dream was at a period of intense life change for me, around four years ago, when I'd gone through a massive career failure in film and TV. I'd stopped watching TV, films, reading newspapers, magazines – purging myself of all images of celebrity and success. So how Britney snuck into my dream was all the more mysterious. Had my subconscious become profoundly shallow? Was there no escape from consumerism even in sleep? And what the hell did the whale mean? Whatever the dream was trying to tell me, the result was that my spirits were lifted. I even, for the first time ever, forced myself to watch an entire Britney video.

About a year later and I was at an all-time low, unemployed and feeling as close to suicidal as I ever have. I was on a cheap flight from London after a failed interview when I turned to find Britney sitting next to me. She was disguised with wig, tweed cap and sunglasses. I said hi and asked if she remembered me from the whale. She told me to shush – she was on the run and paparazzi were lurking everywhere. She held my hand and whispered: "I'm going to kill myself in the desert."

I looked over my shoulder to make sure no one could hear, before breaking the hard news: "Eh … I think you're on the wrong flight. This one goes to Glasgow."

She wept hysterically. I worried that she would draw attention to herself. "Look," I whispered, "all those nasty things I said before, I take them back. Really, you saved my life."

"I did?"

I nodded. "Hey, why don't you hide out in Scotland for a while, dress down, even put on some weight, become totally invisible till you get yourself together."

She gave me a kiss. The plane landed and I woke and she was gone, but yet again I felt she'd given me some redemptive message. By helping her out I felt a whole lot better about myself. I decided that if I ever did feel truly suicidal, I'd do as I recommended to her – take a break, go to another country, hide from the world and take some time to feel alive.

I don't know if I ever appear in Britney's dreams. I doubt it. However, I do know that she obsessively reads everything the papers say about her so there's a chance she'll get this message.

Britney, I'd like to thank you for saving my life. I'd like to return the favour. My offer is still open. If you'd like to vanish for a year or two, I have a spare room in Partick. Take care now.