A Jar of Crumbling Water

Woke up with the phrase 'a jar of crumbling water' running through my head, not yet an hour ago. An obvious refugee from a dream, though the nature of the country the phrase was trying to escape from has gone forever. How would water crumble - as ice perhaps? I imagine water crumbling into a kind of dust, a light-barely there powder coloured white with just a hint of blue. More importantly though is why would water crumble? A river flowing perhaps into some cursed realm, a glass of water taken into a house believed to be peculiarly haunted - perhaps by the spirits of desert of dehydration. Jars and jars of white powder, crammed in the cupboards of this house, dusty-cobweb jam, an eerie heroin for the junkies of the small hours.