With Meesa directing our movements we looked into all the nooks and crannies in Damascus in which Jezer could be seeking refuge.
I was a bit mechanical, I admit, and somewhat distracted. I had had an unsettling dream over night. And my thoughts ran on two separate tracks. One, upon what we were doing. And the other on the details of my dream.
In my dream, I was dreaming. It was night, and the dark enfolded me. And into the dream came the sound of dripping. A sound that crescendoed into a raging torrent. With the coming of the light, I could see it was a rising tide of blood.
But I could not see from whence the blood came.