Little could Jeremiah have imagined the severity of dreams, of visions. Upon entering his own hut, made all the more standard from a small, unlit campfire in the center. A small opening was placed at the top, permitting any smoke to rise and not build up inside the hut. Closer to the sides was a 'bed' or more-so resembling a floor mat designated specifically for him. How was anyone supposed to live here? Jeremiah sat down on the bed, and knew that all his earthly possessions were gone. Well, aside from his clothes of course, with many other outfits placed across from himself. Maybe when he sorted everything out, he'd try to socialize with the others. Easier said than done, Jeremiah inwardly scolded. With overwhelming weariness clouding his judgement, he stretched his body across the bed and forcefully closed his eyes. That was when the dreams came. It felt like Jeremiah was watching from the perspective of a chandelier. He could see the monastery, with two rows of monks standing around the inner sanctum columns. The expressions on their face was both sheer horror and sadness. Two more monks entered, holding a large, black coffin by the sides. With great care, they placed the box before a stage, overlooked by a massive window of stained glass. A churning sensation erupted in Jeremiah's very being. He was witnessing his own funeral.