There is a distressing moment towards the end of this performance of B.L.I.P.S. where performer and creator Margot Mansfield can’t continue her song. She explains she hasn’t been sleeping well; both a symptom and the cause of her momentary episodes of psychosis that form the show’s basis. In a piece which constantly trades off its blurred boundaries between real and imaginary, we don’t quite know what is going on. Her director and technician start singing for her, metaphorically holding her (later her director confirms the breakdown was real).

And yet, after that, Mansfield comes back fighting, ending the show with a wild, buoyant and life-affirming hula hoop finale. B.L.I.P.S. (which stands for Brief Limited Intermittent Psychotic Symptoms) is in many ways about the redemptive power of creativity. Theatre (and by extension circus, Mansfield’s discipline) is a world where we are all collectively delusional; where nothing makes sense. Mansfield plays into this, lip-syncing to recordings, rewriting the beginning of The BFG with herself as the protagonist. She offers us communion at one point, alluding to a world where biscuits are flesh and grape juice transubstantiates into blood.

The piece fizzes with frenetic, brilliant ideas. As art, it’s messy, truthful and raw. But some shows transcend their artistic status; for many artists, finding a language to make sense of their stories can be a lifeline. 

Margot Mansfield: B.L.I.P.S., Summerhall, until 26 August, 10am.