I love hotel rooms in the same way The Cookie Monster appreciates cookies. I really love them.

Fast-forward 22 years and I am awake again but this time I am in a rockstar room at Fraser Suites Sydney. There’s a rider on arrival (a box of Adore handmade chocolates, Dunes Sparkling Pinot Noir and some freakishly enormous apples) and a fully stocked tea chest complete with herbal tisanes (my benchmark for excellence).

Beyond the accoutrements of fame (OK, so I am not actually famous but it’s easy to imagine being one of the hotel’s many famous patrons), it’s the view that does it for me. Floor to ceiling windows on the 39th floor overlooking Jones Bay and Pyrmont. City lights spread out like a trippy duvet, as imagined by the costume designers of Andrew Lloyd Weber’s Starlight Express. Or Xanadu. Or possibly even a handy shaman who has had too much peyote and likes glitter. Either way, it’s really sparkly and it makes me feel sparkly too.

The bed is enormous and has gazillion thread count sheets. There is an iPod dock next to the bed so I can listen to tragic old playlists (anyone for a birthing playlist I made for my sister with lots of pre-crack Whitney Houston? Maybe you would like the creatively titled ‘mopey’ playlist which is mostly Radiohead and songs I want played at my funeral?).

There is a couch, a full kitchen, a modern bathroom covered in chocolate-sheen mosaic tiles and fancy organic bath products.

But I don’t care about any of that. I just want to lie in bed, look at the view and imagine that this is my real life.

*With thanks to Will Ferrell