The endless Milk in mother's kitchen

"I was sitting in my mother's kitchen, drinking a glass of cold milk. I don't know why I was there, because the house looked like the one I grew up in, but the windows were in the wrong places. The milk tasted so fresh, and I remember thinking I hadn't had milk like that in years. I finished the glass and poured another one, but the bottle never seemed to get empty. My mother was talking to me from another room, though I couldn't make out her words. Then I noticed I was wearing my old school uniform, and I felt embarrassed for some reason. I looked down at the glass, and the milk had turned warm. I drank it anyway. Outside, it was raining, but the kitchen felt cozy and safe. I didn't want to leave, even though I couldn't remember what I was supposed to be doing that day."