One Beer, One Hour

One Beer, One Hour

Like almost everyone I have dreams at night. They’re usually dreams about ordinary things and familiar people. But last Tuesday’s dream was different. It actually woke me up. It was so real I sat up in bed and looked around the room to be sure I was really there. My heart was pounding so I laid back down and stared at the ceiling. My alarm clock read 2:16 and all I could do was hope I’d be able to fall asleep again.

The dream was about me, and I was in Clancy’s Pub, my favorite watering hole. I’d been there earlier in the evening for a quick beer so I figured that’s why my dream was set there. Going to a bar is usually something I avoid during the workweek but there were things going on at the office and I’d just felt like finding a brief escape. I had one pint of beer and then left for home. One beer. One hour. It had been a peaceful hour and when I left, I felt more relaxed than I had all day.

Clancy’s is as authentic an Irish pub as you can find anywhere in modern America, especially in a city like Phoenix. The bar and backbar had been taken from a pub in Dublin, brought to the United States in pieces and reassembled at Clancy’s. Unlike the typical bars of today there is only one television in the entire place. The music coming from the ceiling speakers is the soft, background type and the volume is set at a level that allows conversations to happen easily. They have a dartboard and a competition for the patrons to join. I’m proud to say that my name, Adam Decker, is number two on the large winner’s scoreboard. When people step through the big oak entrance door they find a place full of the sound of friendly folks who’d come together for a good time, the way people did a long time ago.

The Clancy’s Pub in my dream had been the total opposite of the real place. Everything looked the same but it was raucous and chaotic. People were shouting. It seemed like everyone was panicking and shoving each other and trying to find a way out. The barmaid ran out through the backdoor. I was knocked off my barstool by a man running for an exit. I fell to the floor and struck my head on the bar rail. It was a frightening scene and I was smack in the middle of it. That was the point where my dream ended.

I never fell back to sleep. It had just been six hours of lying there trying to clear my thoughts. When the alarm went off, I got up and began my morning “getting ready for work routine”. That was when I had another unnerving moment. I looked in the bathroom mirror and saw a large bruise on my forehead, in the same spot where I’d struck the bar rail in my dream. All I could do was stare at my face and wonder what in the hell was happening. Could I have bumped into something earlier and not noticed the bruise? Nothing came to mind.

An hour later I was on my way to the office when my phone rang. It was Sarah and I put it on the speaker.

“Mornin’, babe. How are things back there?

“Good morning, honey. Things are okay I guess, about as good as we can expect for now. Mom’s still in a lot of pain so the doctor is keeping her sedated most of the time. It’s so hard seeing her like this.”

“Geez, I’m sorry, hon. I wish I was with you. How are you holding up?”

“Oh, I’m hanging in there. Michael stops by and gives me some breaks and that helps. I just want her to get better or we’ll have to put her in assisted living.”

“Are you ready for that?”

“Yeah, Michael has laid the groundwork at Aspen Care so all we can do now is wait to see how she does the next few days.”

We talked a while longer then said our goodbyes until our evening call. I felt bad for her and what she was going through. Only time would tell how things turned out..

My workday was at the same stress level as it had been for a month. Sales were down and it seemed like no one had a realistic strategy for improving them. I worked in the Finance Department and all I could do was sit in meetings and listen to the sales team send ideas around the table. It was frustrating to say the least.

Since I was living on my own for a few more days I decided to once again go against my “weekends only” rule and stop at Clancy’s on the way home. The real Clancy’s not the one in my dream. It was the usual Happy Hour crowd and the usual upbeat vibe, and I settled in at the bar and enjoyed a pint of Irish Ale. Part of me wanted to stay longer but I decided to keep with my routine; one beer, one hour. I said goodbye to the bartender and left.

Evenings were lonely without Sarah. I missed retelling the day’s events over a glass of wine, having dinner together and just being a couple. Our evening phone conversation was a welcome relief.

“Hey, honey I have some good news. We were able to get Mom into Aspen Care. They said they can take her this week and Michael is going to handle it.”

“That’s great news. I hope that means you’ll be heading home soon.”

“Yeah, since Michael is taking care of everything I’ll be flying home tomorrow afternoon. I found a Delta flight that gets me into Phoenix at 4:20.”

“Great. I was hoping you’d get home before the weekend, and now I have an excuse to duck out of the office early.”

“Are things going any better there yet?”

“No, it’s all in a holding pattern but I’m not worried. We’ve been through slowdowns before and we managed to get through them okay.”

Between two glasses of Zinfandel and our half hour long conversation I had relaxed and felt better about things. I’d decided not to say anything to her about my strange dream. I didn’t know what it meant anyway so I knew I couldn’t explain it to her.

I slept better that night, at least until around 3:00 AM. Just like the previous night a dream woke me up, another dream about Clancy’s and another dream that scared the hell out of me. The second dream began where the first one had ended. I was on the floor in front of the bar rubbing my forehead from the impact with the bar rail. There was still shouting and screaming all over the place. John Clancy was standing behind the bar yelling into his phone, “Hurry up, we need help here! Send them now!” I stood up, dizzy from the blow to my head and looked around for a way to escape the chaos. A small utility closet near the restrooms was unlocked and I slipped inside and closed the door. It was dark and as I searched for a light switch I felt the sleeve of my shirt catch on something. I pulled my arm away and heard a tearing sound. The temptation to peek out at the action was strong but I resisted. I heard what sounded like a gunshot and the volume of the screaming crowd got even louder. Then the dream ended.

Just like the previous night I sat up in bed, breathing hard and wondering about the dream and why it was also set in Clancy’s. It didn’t make sense. It was another night of lying there, staring at the ceiling and hoping I could fall back to sleep. And it was another night when that didn’t happen. As I was getting dressed later I picked up my shirt from a chair beside the dresser. It was the shirt I’d been wearing the previous day. I froze when I saw the large tear in the left sleeve. The bruise on my head and now the torn shirt happened in my dreams. I tried to grasp some kind of connection between those dreams and the real world. Nothing made sense.

I left for the office a little early so I could make a side trip. Clancy’s was a few blocks out of the way but I felt I had to drive by it just to make sure things were normal. When I turned on to Seventh Street I looked ahead and felt a chill. Yellow police tape was wrapped around the sidewalk near the front door. Three black and white units and two black, unmarked cars were parked along the curb. Clusters of uniformed cops stood near them on the sidewalk. A small crowd of curious bystanders had gathered across the street. It all looked like a crime scene from a television show. I slowed down to watch everything that was going on until a cop waved at me to move on. During the rest of my drive, I tried to reconcile the peaceful hours I’d spent at a quiet little pub with the things that had happened in my dreams. And now, the police activity only added to my confusion.

It was hard to keep my mind on my work. Constant scrolling through the news apps on my phone showed nothing about whatever it was that had happened at Clancy’s. Around 3:30 I left my office. The traffic wasn’t very heavy for that time of day and half an hour later I was winding my way through the airport traffic. Sarah was waiting at the arrivals curb and after she stashed her bag in the hatch she got in. We kissed and she gave me a quizzical look. “Geez, honey, you look like your beat. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, no problems, I just haven’t slept well the last couple of nights.”

“Is the stuff at the office still keeping you awake?”

I wasn’t sure if I should tell her the whole dreams story but decided it might be good to share a condensed version. “No, it’s kind of a strange thing. I had a couple of dreams the past few nights. They were about some really weird things going on at Clancy’s and they’ve kind of been stuck in my head.”

Wow, that’s usually your little place to unwind, not toss and turn over.”

“I know. The last two evenings I stopped there after work for a beer and everything was normal and relaxing. Then I had a couple of dreams where the place was chaotic and scary. Then this morning, lo and behold, I drove by it on my way to work and there were cops all over the place.”

“Wow, that sure doesn’t sound like Clancy’s. Any idea what happened?”

“No, but I figure we’ll see something on the news tonight.” It seemed to me that was enough of an explanation for now.

Over dinner I let Sarah do most of the talking. She was full of news about her mother’s health and the care facility she’d be moving into. There was a definite sadness in her voice, like she’d already begun to say goodbye to her Mom. We were in the bedroom getting ready for bed and the television was tuned to local news. Sarah was busy finishing her unpacking but the television screen was the only thing on my mind. After a few minutes of a weather report and a commercial the story I was waiting for came on. The scene of the police activity in front of Clancy’s played out while the reporter talked about the chaos and violence that had happened earlier at the last place you’d expect any kind of trouble. The police tape was gone but fluorescent orange traffic cones blocked the entrance door.

Sarah stopped her unpacking and stood beside me. We watched the story together. The reporter interviewed a police detective who was working on the case and he told her “We’re currently looking for a person of interest.” The screen changed to a face drawn by a police sketch artist. I heard Sarah gasp and I just stared at the screen. Their person of interest was me.