The Anthology
The dream is always the same
The dream is always the same. I am laying in an open coffin. I can hear the voices gathered around me softly saying it was just my time. They were mourning me. Their lamentation moved me. And as they begin closing the coffin, my arm raises up to stop the closure. The last thing…
A members’ writing from The Anthology — this is an honest preview. Read the full piece on The Book of Unger.
Continue reading →Rise, and breathe a purer air.