Now, it was flowing across my mind like a 3D movie. In my dream, I walked to our mailbox and was surprised to find an envelope with a return address ...hat simply read: Santa, North Pole. There was a brief note inside. ‘Received your letter. Wish manifestation in process. Meet me in Santa’s Village at the Gingerbread House.’ ‘How odd,’ I thought. I remembered a Santa’s Village in the Santa Cruz Mountains, but it was torn down decades ago. Yet, in an instant, I was at the village. The details. Usually, Kevin would not have gone down there. The stories he had heard about that place would make the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. One would only go down there to score some dope, buy an illicit weapon, or get roughly gangbanged. Kev was a wholesome guy. Absolutely not one to piss in his own pants, no matter what. Besides that, it was the middle of the day. Nothing terrible would happen now! Families with their offspring were still out shopping. These things would only occur at. More

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