"what dreams may come"

I'd been noodling over a few as yet unpublished postings, wondering what's been keeping me, when I realized that I'd been shelving a dream that's been haunting me for over a week now that needs writing.

****

I'm in a white house, sitting at a wooden table painted white in an all white kitchen with two other women I've become acquainted with quite recently. We're celebrating an achievement of mine. One asks me if I want a beer. I think to myself, why not? I've earned it. I say yes.

She gets up from the table, reaches into an antique fridge, and hands me a Budweiser in a can.

I crack it open, and gulp it down. I can taste it. Cold carbonated hops and barley. I'm examining the can. Beads of sweat drip down the red and white and blue logo. I'm thinking: why am I drinking this beer?

I look past the two women. The back door is open. It's directly in front of me and just behind one of them. Bright white daylight nearly blinds the outside view, but I can just make out a faint blue sky and endless green grass out there.

We're all talking. We're celebrating, but somehow I feel faraway. I begin second guessing myself. Wondering why I would say yes to drinking a beer when I know very well that I'm on probation with a stipulation not to imbibe alcohol. Why would I do that when I want to set a good example for these women? I want to show them that I choose not to further violate the rule of law in any way. Yet, here I am with this can in my hand.

Then I begin to wonder: Why Budweiser in a can? I haven't had a Bud since I was in high school.

And if I were going to risk breaking my probation by drinking, wouldn't I want to do it with a beer to remember? Something truly tasty. Guinness, how I remember your heartiness, yet all I can taste is the rim of this can and it's cheap contents--a mass-produced fermented piss water.

***

What do I make of this dream?

Although shorter than most of my dreams, it replays in my waking hours much more often than I would have expected. It's rife with imagery and gustatory sensations, and I wonder if any of my dream books have any explanations for the symbolic meaning of a can of good ol' American beer.

It's only after pondering this particularly puzzling dream image for days that I have realized: that is the beer my dad drank when I was a child.

I think my subconscious is speaking to me. It's saying: "I want a beer, but I want to set a good example for my peers..."

And perhaps I'm torn between the instant gratification I saw as a child in my father's face (when he cracked open his first beer after work) and the need for further self reflection. Faced with this perpetual dilemma, I'm reminded of the chorus to the song "Sober" by Tool (which I've posted below), which goes:

"Why can't we not be sober?

I just want to start this over.

Why can't we sleep forever?

I just want to start this over."

In my dream, alcohol, that supposed reward for a job well done, was actually an agent of sleep. I lost sight of my friends. I stared either at the can in my hand or out into an infinite abyss of white light and green grass. I believe that the question the song posits begs a passionate because. What do you think?