I had my own encounter with the ghost in 1984. It was backstage at a massive open-air concert in Ireland, at a time when Dylan had emerged from his fierce Born Again Christian phase with the shiny and beguiling Infidels and was touring with a starry rock band featuring guitar supremos Mick Taylor and Carlos Santana with The Faces’ Ian Maclagan on keyboards. I had blagged my way backstage alongside my friend Bono. The U2 star was escorted to a Winnebago, where Dylan was inside playing chess with Van Morrison, all of which completely boggled my young brain. It was Bono’s first meeting with the great man, and he later told me they had talked about Irish music, and Dylan recited Brendan Behan’s The Auld Triangle. Meanwhile, I had struck up a conversation with two American boys.