I’ve been here before. I think. It doesn’t look like the office, but somehow I know that it is, despite the fact that the floor is slowly flooding with water and there’s hardly any light. Except for this one light, that’s coming from a single computer off in the distance. And she’s there, clutching a phone in her hand and muttering something that’s inaudible. I try to go to her, try to reach out to her even though she’s much too far away for me to grasp anything, but still I try. The water’s moving up to my knees now, making it increasingly difficult to move.

There’s this inexplicable urgency in me that’s screaming at me to do something, anything. But it’s muffled and loud and I can barely hear myself think over the din of sloshing water and her voice, heavy with pain, in the darkness. Then suddenly she’s right in front of me, her back turned away and her fingers pulling at a phone cord that seems to stretch for miles. She’s wearing the same dress she was earlier, and the rustle of fabric adds to the already overwhelming noise in the room, even though she doesn’t seem to be moving. I reach out again and still, I can’t touch her, which consequently makes me just want to touch her more. No matter how far I reach, though, I always come up short. The culmination of sounds is almost too much to take and then suddenly it goes into a deafening quiet. Then, out of the silence comes a voice, soft and reassuring.

"Are you in love with him?"

It didn’t come from Pam, and it certainly didn’t come from me, but what I’m most concerned with is her answer. I know exactly who “him” is, and my next steps, my next course of action relies solely on what she says.

“Yeah, I think I am.”

Then it’s just a series of moments, images that flash before me like a flip book: Coke cans, paperclips, yogurt lids, boxes of paper, paper doves, lip gloss, Dundies, white keds, margaritas, iPods, grilled cheese sandwiches, yearbooks, plane tickets, a teapot, a winning hand at poker. It all comes to a crashing halt as she turns around to face me with a tear-stained face.

“Where are you?” she whispers. I try to answer, but my voice is lost. My mouth can’t open and I’m starting to panic. “Where are you?” she asks over and over and I’m screaming on the inside "I’m right here, I’ve never left, I don’t want to leave, I’m still right here!" But she’s looking right through me, her tears falling into the flood that’s now at my waist. She’s floating away and I’m being pulled under and just when I think that I’ve lost her, I reach out one last time and I graze her hand.

The water moves over us and she’s coming toward me but I still am unable to speak. So I decide to tell her the only way I know how. I pull her to me, my hands at her hips, our faces inches apart. But it’s all too much and I feel like my lungs will burst if I don’t take a breath right—

I wake up to the sound of me gasping for air. My heart pounds out of my chest and I'm sick to discover that the back of my neck is drenched in cold sweat. I’m confused and disoriented until I see the movie playing and Pam still sleeping soundly on my chest. I lean my head back on the couch and take deep breaths, willing my pulse to return to a normal rate. Nightmares, they happen. They especially happen when you’re sleep deprived and have an engaged woman passed out on your chest. I go to move from the couch when I realize Pam has slung her arm across my stomach; slightly protective, slightly possessive, incredibly comforting. I gently unhinge myself from her weak clutches and run to the kitchen sink, all but dunking my head under the faucet to regain clarity. It helps a lot, and combined with the small amount of rest I managed to get, I’m actually feeling pretty good. Despite the weird-ass dream.

And it’s one of those dreams that I know I’m not going to be able to shake anytime soon because it was so damn vivid. Vivid to the point where I felt like I’d seen it happen a million times already, like some twisted form of deja-vu. As if I needed one more thing to distract me from--

“What are you doing?”

I snap my head up to find her leaning against the kitchen doorway, sleepy-eyed and hair going in every direction. The sight wakes me up faster than anything else possibly could.

“Taking a mini-shower. Do you mind?”

She giggles and scratches the back of her head. “How long was I out?”

“Not too long. I nodded off a little too, don’t feel bad.”

Her eyes are still squinty as she points to the coffee pot.

“Does that work?”

I nod and laugh. “Yes, it works.”

“Good.” And that’s all the permission she needs for her to start opening up cabinets, one by one until she finally finds the materials she needs. She takes the pot and pushes me out of the way to get to the sink.

“Whoa. Someone does not take kindly to the early morning hours,” I tease.

“I haven’t done an all-nighter since college, I’m out of practice.” She goes through the motions like she’s on autopilot, never once hesitating. When she hits “brew”, she leans against the counter and rubs her hands across her face.

“One cup and then I’ll be good to go.”

“I hope so, there’s a lot of day left. Unless…” and I really don’t even want to make this an option, but the dream is still fresh in my mind and seems to be calling the shots. “We don’t have to do this, you know. I can totally take you home.”

She furrows her eyebrows but her smile betrays any sign of anger.

“Are you backing out of your own deal, Halpert?”

“No, I’m just—“

“Trying to get rid of me?”

“No, not at all!”

“Listen buddy,” she jabs a finger into my chest and effectively pushes me up against the counter. She’s still smiling, but I’m still terrified and take a very audible gulp. “You’re ditching me in a few days, and that’s going to suck enough as it is, I’m not letting you ditch me now. Got it?”

I relax into a smile of my own. “Got it.”

“Good. Now are you boys civilized enough to actually have coffee cups or do you just chug straight from the pot?”

“What are we, cavemen?” I ask, going to a cabinet and retrieving two mugs. We drum our fingers impatiently as the coffee perkalates, watching the last few drops settle until she can’t take it anymore and pours herself a large cup. I start towards the fridge to get creamer, but stop when I realize she’s drinking it straight.

“Damn. You’re a little hardcore right now, Beesly.”

“I think I could chew espresso beans, I’m that desperate.” She lets out a content sigh as she takes another large sip.

“Alright, but when you start twitching from a caffeine overdose, I’m not taking responsibility.”

She grabs a nearby dish towel and swats me with it, and I can see the energy begin to surface and take hold of her.

“Okay, adrenaline is starting to kick in. I’m ready to roll.” She starts to do the running-man and I snort with laughter.

“Did you spike this coffee? What is wrong with you?”

“I just got a second wind, that’s all.”

“Mind sharing some of that second wind? I’m still feeling a little groggy.” It’s half-true; more than anything, I’m still reeling over the dream and can’t seem to shake just how real it seemed.

“Well, then we’re going to have to fix that.” There’s something in the way that she chugs the rest of her coffee, wags her eyebrows at me and jets out of the kitchen that scares me to death and makes me want her all at the same time.

“I’m guessing you have a plan,” I say, as I watch her gather her dress and high heels.

“Yep. We have to make a few pit stops first though. You good to drive?”

I take my last sip of coffee. “Yep, I’m good.”

“Alright then,” she says, tossing my car keys to me. “Let’s go.”

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