I’m Chevy Chase dressed as Santa being taken on a train somewhere I don’t want to go. There are heavy red curtains I try to hide behind so people won’t see me. The train pulls up to the stop. I realize that I’m not behind curtains, but under blankets and everyone can see me. There’s a woman who is happy because she’s looking for tall men who can grow beards to play Santa around Christmas. She helps me down from the platform, a ten foot drop. I land on a mattress. I tell her about my friend who can be Santa, but she doesn’t think he’s right. He’s too small and strange. I tell her that he’s a very good actor and has experience playing Santa. She not interested. She wants me.
My husband and I are walking in the direction of a prison, but we don’t see it. We see a goddess embracing Santa Claus. There are so many wonderful things in this direction, we decide to continue while paying attention to not accidentally walk into the prison.
A poet is carrying me around on a street. The street is full of Santas. I’m attracted to them because they remind me of my childhood. I want to go near them, but the poet won’t let me. He’s worried that anything related to my childhood might upset me. Or maybe he just doesn’t understand Santa. I wonder if the Santas have minty breath. We’re now inside a dark cellar. There’s a Santa here. He points to a high window that’s ground level and asks us when do we think it’s last been open. Obviously not for a long time.
I’m somewhere where all the creatures and people have died. All that is left is a little child who is me. I run into Santa Claus who’s bothered to see me. He says that next year I’ll probably be the only one left who he can give a gift. There’s a magic egg and I wish for it to hatch. It does and three creatures come out of it, including a horse. The creatures go off and now there’s hope, but I wonder how they’ll reproduce. There was only one of each kind.
I’m in a Home Depot parking lot. There’s a delivery woman on her way to a strip mall. I tell her that it’s closed and she should give the package to me. She says no, she has to deliver it to Santa Claus. In the parking lot there are piles of gifts that Santa left for me. There’s paper bag bear cut-outs on sticks. I look at one say, “Oh great, this reminds me of the distance of the masculine, how I never really connected with it and no man has ever been there for me.”
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