I don't think I would, mind you. You've been kind. I certainly won't here, where I can think about it properly.

I cannot help you much, I'm no good at sweet dreams, but I can give you dreams of death by water. Would you prefer them?

*Eventually Dee will come across a door that feels right. If she opens it she will see a dock on a sunless sea, darker than night, with false-stars that occasionally skitter across the roof of the Neath like giant fireflies. Perhaps that's what they are . . .*