I had believed the recurring nightmare was a harbinger of the future. It had shown me as an emaciated body, lying prostrate in the bed. Thin like a stick. Helpless. Hated by all. Praying for death whenever conscious.
Despite obeying scriptures all these years!
Wish for a quick and painless death, the book's cover said.
That's what I was doing after my prayer in the deserted temple.