Pam was dreaming of Jim. Not an uncommon dream for her by any means, but this one was particularly vivid. No, not like that! She dreamt she was curled up next to him, his warm body lightly touching her back, his breath faint on her neck. It was the most comforting place she'd been in a long time, and even as she felt herself waking, she tried to force herself back into sweet sleep. Because it was so nice... she could even smell him... and he was so... warm...

As it became clearer that she was drifting into consciousness, she began to get a little alarmed; she could still feel his presence profoundly. Her eyes fluttered open to reassure her that she was in her own bed, and that Jim wasn't (and probably never would be) there. The first thing she noticed was the orange paint covering the walls.

"What the hell?!" She screamed out loud, bolting up. "What the-- Jim?!" It became apparent that she was, in fact, in his bed. With him. With Jim. In Jim's bed.

"Woah, what's wrong?" He asked sleepily, rubbing his eyes. "Bad dream?"

"No! I-- what the-- god-- what--" Words poured out of her mouth faster than she could articulate any sort of thought. She scrambled out of the bed, and immediately fell over.

"Woah," Jim repeated, moving over to the side of the bed. She looked up to see his concerned eyes peering down at her, and realized he was shirtless.

"Will you excuse me?" She scurried up before he could respond, quickly realizing she didn't know where to find a phone or a bathroom. There was a door off of the bedroom, though, that didn't appear to go to the hall. It might just be, "The bathroom?"

"Yeah, that's the bathroom," Jim confirmed. "Karen, seriously, are you alright?"

"Karen," she breathed, barely audible. "No," she said, looking at him. "I need... a phone?"

"I think your cell is in your purse, but why do you need a phone?" If she weren't so completely freaked out, she would find his concerned tone charming. "Sit down. We'll get things figured out."

"No, we won't," she said quickly. "I need to make a call. Please. Where is my purse?"

"On coffee table in the living room, where you always leave it," he responded incredulously. "Karen--" But she was already out the door, and he could hear clumsy footsteps scrambling down the hall.

Jim wasn't a morning person, and took a moment before following her. He got up and put on a pair of boxers and made his way to the living room to find a frantic Karen clutching her phone and shaking wildly, muttering 'pick up' in a flustered tone he'd never heard her use before.

"Karen, if you're there, please pick up. The phone's in the kitchen, which should be to your right. Karen! Pick up! I don't know if this is just a freakishly real dream or what just please, please, please-- Oh thank god, hi! It's me! -- Yeah, I know. -- Calm down, calm down. -- Calm down! -- No, I am totally freaking out, too. -- I KNOW! -- Yeah, I am. -- Well, he's probably pretty weirded out! -- Yeah. -- No, I just woke up. -- No! -- Yeah, I fell over too, I'm not used to these skinny little legs. -- Sorry. -- I'll be over in a bit. Is your car here? -- Okay, keys in your purse? -- Okay, just don't touch anything or do anything, I guess. -- Okay, bye. -- No, I know, I don't have any idea! -- Right. -- Right, Bye."

She whirled around to find a dumbfounded Jim, tired and wearing only his boxers, his mouth agape. "What-- ?" He mumbled, his voice sounding frightened.

"I don't know," she replied, sounding a little defeated. "But I have to go."

"Where--" He must be the one dreaming.

"Will you slap me?" She asked. He simply stared. "Or pinch me, whatever. I need to make sure-- I need to make sure I'm not dreaming."

"Yeah..." His voice was barely audible. "I think I might be..."

She realized he probably wasn't going to be much help, and slapped herself across the face as hard as she possibly could. "Oh Jesus Christ!" She wailed, holding her hand to her cheek and wincing. "Okay," she gasped, "I'll see you later." She was a foot from the door before she realized she was naked. "How the--" she groaned, rushing past Jim and into his bedroom to try to find some clothes to put on. Once she'd acquired what she assumed must be her own, she was out yet again. "Bye," she called as she slammed the door, leaving him dumbfounded.

He stared at the door a full five minutes before realizing he should probably follow her.