Bergamot Orange

I'm sorry- You're who now?

"I told you already dear, I'm Earl Grey."

She had said that at least three times already, but Tom couldn't help but ask one last time as they walked through an abnormally large café. The environment kept switching, melding and shifting so fluidly it seemed Tom had only imagined its previous look.

As the empty café turned into a cozy library Tom couldn't help but pinch his leg, watching how the woman walked with purpose; though it seemed they had no concrete end location. 

She wore a large woolen pullover, with quilted patterns of cream, orange and sepia that shifted like a kaleidoscope every-time her arms crossed her torso. She had ragged jeans cuffed over fluffy loafers, and a pair of clear-frame glasses on the end of her nose.

Tom realized how intently he was watching the woman, a bit impressed at how well he could describe her. He frowned though as a vital observation crossed his mind again,

"Hey where are we going?"

Earl giggled, gesturing at the autumn pasture that materialized around them, "I suppose that's up to you to figure out, Thomas."

He nodded, trying for a smile. He knew full well he was smitten by this stranger, but in dreams usually that stranger in question was someone he knew in the waking world or saw in a movie. He grimaced at the embarrassing amount of times he dreamed of going on dates with fictional characters. 

But this woman didn't look like anyone he had ever seen! Although her name and presence implied otherwise.

The more Tom thought about it, the stranger it became. Her dark-toned english accent, so similar somehow to the earthy aroma of tea leaves, the color of her hair, which matched the color of his earlier drink exactly...

Yeah, Tom was freaking out.

"I'm sure you're deep in thought Thomas, but now that you've been saved from a night of tossing and turning, I do say I have places to be."

Tom looked up at the imposing lady, grinning and raising an eyebrow, "Yeah? What does a drink do in her free time?" As he said it he imagined Earl going to live in a house shaped like a mug, socializing with other assorted drinks, chuckling to himself at the whimsical thought.

Earl Grey shook her head, staring ahead as if she could see something on the non-existent horizon, "My job, I'm afraid."

Tom squinted into the distance, watching as the fields of wheat turned into a small town. Immediately the distinct architecture caught his eye; just as he had imagined, pastel colored mugs of different sizes neatly lined short paved streets.

Ok, however much Tom was freaking out before was incomparable to how much he was freaking out now.  

He nodded, pretending to be in on the situation, "O'course! Those antioxidants aren't going to deliver themselves, right?" Normally winging it didn't work in Tom's favor; it's safe to say improv wasn't his strong suit.

Earl nodded, beaming at him, "Exactly! You're lucky I was on my break, Thomas."

"So lucky, dude, so lucky." Tom confirmed, his hands stuffed so far into his pockets he could feel the tops of his knees.

Earl stopped walking as they reached the edge of her town, turning to the young man,

"Well it seems this is the end of the line, my new friend! Make sure to thank your friends again for the presents they gave you, and remember to stay away from caffeinated drinks!"

Tom nodded, saluting, "Yes ma'am. Roger Roger."

With a grin, the woman bent down slightly and tapped him on the forehead, "Good Morning!"

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Tom jolted awake, nearly falling out of bed as per his usual schedule. He threw off his blanket, (which was already pretty much off the bed to begin with) and stared at the small container of tea bags on his bedside table. Luckily for Tom, they didn't jump up and begin singing Kumbaya at him but remained as inanimate as they should've been.

"Wicked" He whispered, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. 

After an unnecessarily long stretch Tom got out of bed; making sure to high-five the coat-hanger, fist-bump the unused bunsen-burner on his desk, and just generally create more of a mess than before. 

Y'know, as you do.

His routine then consisted of pacing around the room looking for his missing tie with half of his clothes on, then making finger guns at the mirror which by now had given up trying to show him how disheveled he looked.

"Alrighty Tom, what's the plan?" He asked himself, clasping his hands together in anticipation for a truly bonkers day.

"Well Tom, I was thinking we slide down the stairway now, come back here and do nothing, and then maybe knock on every one of our friend's doors until one of them punches us in the face?" He responded, hoping Tom would be cool with that.

Tom frowned at nothing in particular, scratching at a nonexistent beard in deep thought, "Y'know what I love the idea, but we did spend every day until today in here, so it's gonna be a no from me. I know I can speak for my fellow sharks here when I say I'm looking for something-" 

He gestured in the air as if holding a box, scrunching his face up in concentration,

"-productive!"

Even Tom was taken aback by what Tom proposed, and he never talks, but there was something outside of the man's usual nonsensical inner dialogue that made him  want to go out and do something. He became unnaturally aware of how truly awake he was, his fingers jittering with potential energy.

He glanced behind him and dropped his hands, his comedic facade fading as he looked at the container of Earl Grey. Perhaps it was just the strange nature of the dream, but Tom felt different, more alert and excitable. He wanted to go out on a walk or write a book, or make a nice omelette,

Tom figured that was more because he was hungry than because of the dream, and his stomach grumbled in confirmation. As a result of his impending starvation, Tom did what any other human would do and went out to get himself some food. He patted his belly as he did, the texture of his uniform sweater reminding him of Earl's color-changing one.

"Well-" Tom told his digestive system, "-That's never gonna happen again, is it?"

He then went and got an omelette.