A curious dream.

A peanut had taken my regular table in a cafe.

Not my cafe, you understand.

But I had the sense in this dream that this was a regular dream cafe and as is my habit stretching right back to childhood when I had to sit in the same corner of the room during my music classes at Primary school (much to my teacher's chagrin), I had a favourite table in there.

I was taken aback to find the peanut sat at my table.

We looked at one another.

I couldn't be sure whether the peanut was looking right through me.

In front of them was a broadsheet.

I caught sight of a headline.

'Sent to Coventry'.

Thrown by the peanut's presence, and unable to settle for sitting anywhere else in the cafe, I left.

But I kept circling the cafe to check if the peanut was still sat at my table.

I must've looked a dozen times.

The peanut showed no signs of leaving.

Was the peanut waiting for someone?

Was it, I wondered, waiting for me?

I stepped back into the cafe and disappeared into its gents downstairs in the basement, where I found myself being sick.

Still, I had enough about me not to touch the toilet bowl when being sick, as you see people doing in films. Sure, I was thrown by the peanut's presence at my table, but I still had the presence of mind to make no contact with the bowl as I was sick.

I sorted myself out, splashing water on my face before heading back upstairs to check on the table.

The peanut was still there.

I didn't want to leave the cafe again.

I made my way cautiously to 'my' table.

I looked at the peanut.

The peanut looked at me.

We looked at one another for what seemed like an eternity and with great sadness.

And then the peanut rose from its chair and left the cafe.

I sat down at the table.

I looked at the newspaper.

'Sent to Coventry'.