Page 4 of My Date With A Pair of Gray Sweatpant

“What do you mean, this dream again?” I ask him. “This is my dream, not yours.”

He chuckles. “Nope, this is definitely my dream.”

“I’m not arguing with a dream man about whether or not I’m in his dream. I need some clothes, please.”

“As you wish,” he says, mimicking Westley from my favorite movie of all time, The Princess Bride.

“So you’re a fan of The Princess Bride, too?” I whisper. He turns on a bedside lamp—this one much softer than the harsh overhead light from before and politely keeps his back to me as he reaches for the same gray sweatpants and Mike’s Discount Furniture t-shirt on his dresser. He tosses them on the bed, but doesn’t look back.

“I am. My Kaitlyn and I went to see it when it first came out, but she wasn’t a fan.”

“Not a fan?” I scoff. “It’s a cinematic masterpiece.” I pull the shirt over my head as he pulls on some shorts. They’re awkwardly short, but I’m in his bedroom, not mine in this dream, so I keep my mouth shut. “I’ve watched that movie so many times since I was little. It was our Christmas Eve tradition. My parents saw it on their first date.”

“How’s that?” Matthew asks, turning to look at me. “It came out in October.”

I shake my head. “Now I know this is a dream–” I put my right leg into the sweatpants and I’m suddenly back on my couch, Stanley making biscuits painfully against my thigh.

4

In Which We Realize It's the Pants

Despite indigestion, heartache, and utter confusion, I have to return to work the next day and smile at all the people who come up to my counter at the bank. Every second I’m in my business casual outfit, I’m thinking about Matthew, the sweatpants, and the weird dreams. It has to be the sweatpants, right? I mean, if it’s indigestion, then I’m screwed—I’ll be dreaming about Matthew until I’m old and gray.

I race home after work and change into the sweatpants immediately. I’m not taking any chances of falling asleep without them on. Next, I text Dale, but he doesn’t message back. I check his location and see he’s at home, so I order his favorite meal from Luigi’s for delivery, hoping he’ll at least answer the door for the driver and get to work on his next outfit, hoping to distract myself as the minutes slowly tick by towards bedtime.

But of course, when it comes time for bed, sleep is impossible. I toss and turn, trying every technique I can think of to fall asleep. But nothing. I check my phone for the millionth timeat four-thirty, then again at four-thirty-three, and again at four-thirty-eight. Nothing.

Five rolls around. Just two hours left before I need to be up. I close my eyes and sigh. I’m never going to fall asleep. Stanley jumps on the bed beside me and curls up, purring against my back. His purr, or the fact that it’s so close to time for me to get up, does the trick.

I open my eyes to find myself back in the same room next to Matthew.

This time, instead of sleepily launching straight into the deed, he apparently has learned to check first. He gently brushes his fingers along the outer edge of my ear. “We meet again, other Kaitlyn,” he whispers groggily. His arm is across me, but he doesn’t move away—not that there’s anywhere to go in his twin bed—but he doesn’t make it weird either. I manage that all on my own.

“It’s the pants,” I whisper back. “At least I think it’s the pants.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Every time I have this dream, it ends with me putting on your sweatpants. There’s something about your sweatpants.”

“My sweatpants?” he huffs a laugh.

I sigh. “I’m not saying it makes sense, but neither does this dream. Where is your Kaitlyn? Why do you think The Princess Bride just came out?”

“Because it did. In October. Kaitlyn and I went to see it.”

“Matthew, that movie came out in 1987. It’s 2025.”

“Now I know this is really my subconscious. It’s what I get for going into physics.”

“I’m not a figment of your subconscious. I have a life and a cat and a job. I spent last night working on a dress for my friend Dale. What did you do last night?”

He is silent. “I–I’m not sure.”

“Do you live here?” I whisper.

“No, I’m just visiting. I wanted to introduce mom to Kaitlyn before I proposed.”

“So you’re telling me you’ve been here two weeks?”

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