Last night the empty pool had a voice

I dreamed the off-season pool wasn't empty. It was full of all the water we'd ever drained out of it, stacked in glass jars along the deep end, and the regular who vanished last month was sitting on the bottom holding a stopwatch. He didn't look at me. He just kept timing something that wasn't moving. I woke up and checked the chlorine log — nothing, obviously. But I keep thinking about how a clock measures loss if you let it.