Page 31 of Stuck in Christmas

“Yes. I want to get out of Christmas, Mississippi,” I answered.

He frowned. “Now, why on earth would you want to do that?”

“I’m stuck in a dream that keeps resetting itself and never ends,” I wailed, throwing my hands into the air.

“That’s troubling,” Kris/Santa agreed.

“I know this is all in my head. Even you’re not real. But I know if I can get the combination right, I’ll wake up,” I said.

Kris/Santa tapped his white-gloved finger against his lip several times and nodded, seemingly taking in what I just said. “What combination?”

I sighed. “You know. The romantic holiday movie combination. There’s a hot guy with a truck, a big city woman who has to learn the meaning of Christmas, a baking montage, sledding, ice skating?—”

“And somehow, there’s a combination that helps you wake up?” Kris/Santa interrupted.

I tilted my head at his denseness. This guy played Santa every year and didn’t know.Oh, right. He was also a figment of my imagination. “Dude. In every holiday movie, the hot flannel guy falls in love with thebig city woman.”

“I see.”

“But that’s already happened, so I don’t know why I’m stuck here.”

“Are you sure that’s already happened? How do you know?”

I shrugged. “There are signs. He always wants to be in my personal space. His kisses are fantastic, which is weird to tell a fake Santa, but since this is my dream, you’re just a figment of my imagination. And, when it comes down to it, you’re another version of me. So, I’m telling myself this, whichisweird.”

“Fake?” Kris/Santa reeled back. “I’m not fake.”

“Whatevs, Kris Kringle,” I said. “Doesn’t change the fact that I’m missing something.”

“You are.”

“Do tell.”

“Seems you’ve missed a crucial part of the romantic holiday movie,” Kris/Santa pointed out.

“I’m all ears.”

“Who said the woman had to learn the meaning of Christmas?” He asked.

I blinked a few times at him. Was this guy - my subconscious - for real? Now, I was annoying myself.

“Maybe she needs to fall in love with the guy, you know, like Eli,” Kris/Santa said with a flourish. I was surprised glitter didn’t rain down on both of us.

“How do you know Eli?” I look around the square and see Eli spying on my conversation with the jolly old elf. “Ah. I think you missed your calling,Santa. You should have been an investigative journalist. Or one of those psychic detectives who’sgood at reading body language and isn’t really psychic.”

Kris/Santa shook his head. “No investigation needed. I know all the wishes of the good girls and boys.”

I barked a laugh. “So you’re saying I wished for this?”

He patted me on the shoulder. “Restarting your day over and over? No. I took a little creative license with that one.”

“You did.” I frowned.

“Of course, I’m Santa. I grant the wishes that yourheartmakes, not your head.”

“I don’t believe this.” I blew out a breath and walked away from this nonsense. Why was I even arguing with a construct of my subconscious? This was ridiculous.

Kris/Santa caught up with me and said, “Really? You think it’s a dream. If this was a dream, is it so far-fetched to believe Santa would do anything to help you learn the lesson you desperately needed?”

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