The coffin as coffee Table

"There's a coffin in my living room. Just. Sitting there. Between the couch and the TV. Wooden. Closed. And I put my coffee on it. Used it as a table. Because the actual table was covered in mail. My friend came over and sat on the couch and put his feet up on it. On the coffin. And I didn't say anything. And he didn't say anything. We just watched the game. And I put my beer on it. Left a ring. And I thought "I should get a coaster" but I didn't get up. I opened it at some point. Just to see. And it was empty. Just lining. Just velvet. And I closed it again. And went back to the game. And I remember thinking "I should probably deal with this" but I didn't know what dealing with it would look like. So I didn't. I woke up and looked at my coffee table. Just a table. Normal. I got up and made coffee and put it on the actual table and sat on the couch and looked at the spot where the coffin was. Nothing there. Obviously. But I couldn't stop thinking about it. Not scared. Just. Curious. What was I supposed to do with it. Still don't know."