Dream: How is the Water?

My vapid hands grasp the bucket bellow me In attempt to carry Its weight. I thrust the handle upward, The bucket quakes with sympathy for my poor excuse of strength. In frustration, I attempt again But this time the bucket rattles from side to side mocking me while the ring of water that lay comfortably under the rusted steel edges, saunters over the side onto my bare feet. My eyes peel open In wonderment; Was the water cold, hot or just fine?