It’s the last week of December. The streets glow like a fantasyland. Thanks to Weather’s speedy arrangement of the Christmas decorations, the Dallergut Dream Department Store is decorated more splendidly than ever. The displays, from the first floor to the fifth, are wrapped with Christmas lights, sparkling like jewelry boxes. Weather originally proposed changing to more glittery wrapping paper, but the second-floor staff and manager rejected the idea.
“Do you have any idea how much glitter falls off from those sparkly wrappers? It requires so much cleanup.”
The Noctilucas also try out a different, seasonal style for the nightdresses they lend out, embroidering them with snowflake patterns. But the customers don’t seem to like it.
“Don’t you have pretty pajamas? This is ugly,” one kid says, pouting.
“If you don’t want to wear this, kid, wear warm clothes to sleep. And try not to kick your blanket in your sleep,” one Noctiluca scolds as it straightens up the kid’s clothes with its thick paws.
The Christmas season is nearing its end, and the power of Santa Claus is indeed unmatched. Nicholas’s dreams sell like hotcakes and they run out of stock, unable to meet the demand from their core target of kid customers. They’re selling a year’s worth of inventory compared to other dreams.
Throughout the season, Nicholas comes in and out of the store like it is his home, transporting his stocks of dreams. He continues to create and restock his dreams, but even when piled mountain-high, they quickly sell out.
Today, wearing a big, brazen belt, Nicholas is busy bringing his products into the dream store with the help of his staff. His stubbly silver beard has a breadcrumb dangling from it, quite possibly from his rushed breakfast.
Young customers seem excited at the sight of fancy Christmas wreaths on the dream packages.
“What kind of dream is in this box?” A boy around the age of six in cute pajamas carefully inspects one of the boxes with a spark of curiosity in his eyes.
“What kind of dream do you want it to be?” Penny asks affectionately.
“Umm... I want a dream where my dad plays hide-and-seek with me and doesn’t go to his room, even if I ask him to play for the hundredth time.”
“Maybe that’s the dream you’ll have there. Or it might be a dream where you become an awesome grown-up. Santa Claus knows exactly what you like. I’m sure it’ll be an amazing dream,” Penny kindly remarks, kneeling down to get to the kid’s eye level.
“Really? But I always cry... Santa Claus doesn’t give presents to kids who cry. That’s what Mom and Dad said.”
“Don’t worry,” Penny whispers in the kid’s ear. “That’s a tactical rumor Santa spread himself to make sure there are no crying kids who don’t want to go to sleep.”
“Really?” The kid’s eyes widen.
“Think about it. If you guys whine about going to bed, you won’t be able to buy any dreams from Santa, right? This is just between us, but it won’t sit well with Santa if he doesn’t sell his dreams during the season.”
Penny recalls the fancy decorations and delicious food at Nicholas’s house. It would be hard to maintain such grandeur if his sales slipped during his one peak season each year.
With the last round of customers from Samoa in the South Pacific, the last time zone to greet Christmas, the whirlwind season finally ends. Weather has taken a long vacation to spend the end of the year with her family.
“I made this vacation approval software,” she’d told Penny. “You list the dates you want to take off and get Dallergut’s approval here. But he doesn’t know how to use it, even when I specifically made it to make his life easier. So, I do the approval myself. In fact, I changed it to an automatic approval system. If you want to go on vacation, just plug in the dates and go. Dallergut couldn’t care less,” Weather had added, before taking off.
That is why Dallergut and Penny are now covering the front desk. Nicholas slouches on the empty seat next to them after bringing in the last batch of his dreams.
“Dallergut, any dream recommendations for a good night’s rest? I plan to hibernate for a couple days straight. I’m so burned out. My age is catching up with me.”
Dallergut picks out several dreams and sits next to Nicholas. Penny takes this opportunity to take a seat as well. Her knees hurt after repeatedly crouching to make eye contact with the kid customers throughout the day.
Nicholas reaches deep into his thick lambswool jacket, which is held closed by a brass belt, and pulls out a big glass bottle. The dark liquid inside is layered with thin ice as if it has been buried deep in the mountain snow.
The three share the exotic, sparkling dark-red drink. The bottle says, “17 percent Freshness added.” One sip makes the throat itch but quickly fills the mouth with a refreshed feeling. It is like holding a heavily compressed dawn breeze inside your mouth.
“This is amazing.” Penny fills one more cup.
“Right? I think it’d go very well with bacon. That would end my day on a high note...” Nicholas smacks his lips. “Anyway, I’ve made a good job transition. If I were to do what my great-great ancestors did, trying to get to every house by reindeer to deliver presents myself... Santa Claus would have long disappeared. They have stronger home security systems now, anyway. But today all you have to do is get kids to sleep, and the rest automatically follows. How convenient! Plus it pays well!” He makes a “cash” gesture, rubbing his index finger and thumb together. “In fact, I hear my ancestors couldn’t reach as many houses as they liked because of all the costs that went into feeding the reindeer and getting the presents. I mean, I can’t imagine how they managed to handle those expenses.”
“We are where we are thanks to our ancestors’ sacrifice.” Dallergut steps in. “And thanks to the sacrifices you make every year, Nicholas. Speaking of which, I feel our sales this year have increased from last year. What do you think?” Dallergut fills his cup.
“Actually, I don’t think it was that different from last year. Last year’s sales were on another level. But I’m pretty sure I’ll still win the Bestseller category in the year-end awards. And you know what that means, Dallergut? That means I would be winning for fifteen years in a row! Fifteen years! What a record, ha ha ha,” Nicholas says confidently.
Penny can guarantee Nicholas is right, having watched the year-end awards with her family every year. On top of the Grand Prix, the awards include Rookie of the Year, Best Art, and Best Screenplay, among others.
But there is the Bestseller award, which is only based on sales for December. And ever since Penny can remember, it has always gone to Santa Claus. Of course, Nicholas has never attended the awards himself, because he always disappears into his cabin after the Christmas season. So Penny hadn’t known until now that he is in fact the great Santa Claus.
The awardees of the Bestseller category receive grants from the association in honor of their economic contribution to the industry. Rumor has it that the reward is a pretty good sum of money. Penny now understands where Nicholas’s extravagant “cabin” and furniture come from.
“I wonder what I should do with this year’s prize. Last year, they gave me ten bottles of Flutter on top of the grant. It helped me wait for my living room remodel to be finished with a flutter in my heart. I was never bored throughout the entire process. I hope they give out Cozy this year as the additional prize—maybe five bottles.”
“What would you use it for?” Dallergut asks, curious.
“Oh, my friend, you should use some of the Cozy like I do. Remember how the couch felt at my house? Didn’t it feel like something was hugging your body, like you were being protected from head to toe? You just spray Cozy on your furniture. The effect lasts for at least a week. It makes a huge difference when you come home. I finished my last bottle today, but the price has skyrocketed, so I don’t dare to buy a new one. It’d be great if they gave it out as a prize this year.” Nicholas speaks as if he’s already been declared the winner. But Penny thinks it probably is a given that he’ll get yet another award this year. Because it is a year-end ceremony, they only take the last month into consideration when giving this award, and there is no dreammaker who could top Santa Claus for December’s sales.
Penny thinks it may have been Nicholas’s plan all along to sell dreams only in December, with the year-end awards in mind. People may call him cunning, but Penny thinks it’s a testament to his incredible marketing tactics.
Soon after, Nicholas gets packed to leave for his “cabin” in the snowy mountain and heads out to his vehicle, which is parked in front of the dream store. The vehicle is flat with an open top, resembling an enormous sleigh.
“Hey, are you planning to screen the awards ceremony at the store for your staff again?” Nicholas asks Dallergut as he starts the engine.
“Of course, if my staff agrees. I plan to invite their families, too. Care to join?”
“I’m too shy around these events. Especially when I’m a leading candidate for one of the awards. I prefer to sit through the ceremony on my living room couch.” Nicholas chuckles. “So long, my friend! And you, young lady—great work! Come visit again.” Nicholas bids Penny farewell. His sleigh soon disappears down the alleyway, leaving behind a throaty engine sound.
With Nicholas gone to his cabin in the snowy mountain, the dream store spends the last week of the year with very few customers. Penny looks at the Eyelid Scales of the regulars and realizes that even those customers who normally visit on time have been coming later and later. And when they do come, they only skim through the products, barely window-shopping, and often leave empty-handed, saying, “I just want to sleep well.” They all have huge bags under their eyes.
“What’s keeping everyone up so late?”
“There are a lot of get-togethers around this time of year. They’re sad to let the last days of the year pass. So, they spend each day to the fullest, and when they come back home, they go out like a light, you know,” says Dallergut, who seems unbothered.
“I don’t know about the other floors, but our first floor’s sales have dropped significantly. At this rate, Nicholas could easily win for the fifteenth time in a row. He’s already sold big time during the Christmas season.”
“Well, you never know. A dark horse may appear at any time.”
Looking at his face, Penny can instinctively feel something is up. “Is there another dream that sold more than Santa Claus’s? Whose dream is it? Do we have a big rookie who I don’t yet know about?”
“Certainly not a rookie, but his dreams have always sold well around this time. He came up like a dark horse at around this time of year, thanks to his increasing sales, which are on par with Nicholas’s, but he’s always been so self-effacing that nobody ever seems to notice. But one thing is for sure: this year will be his year.”
“Who is it? Is this someone I know?” Penny’s dying to know who Dallergut’s talking about.
“Well, how about I drop some hints instead of giving you his actual name?” Dallergut loves to tease out an answer. Fortunately by now, Penny’s used to his style, so she indulges him.
“This time of year can seem joyful and glamorous on the outside, but it carries a dark undercurrent of loneliness and emptiness. It shows when you see how desperately people want to make plans and stay out late,” Dallergut says.
“Yes, I understand that. I feel pressured to go out and make special plans during the holiday season, doing things I don’t normally do. You feel like a loser if you come home early.”
“And who do you think gets the loneliest during the holiday season?”
“Singles like me who have no plans but work nonstop,” Penny replies. Despite having answered almost too confidently, she secretly hopes this is not the correct answer. It feels pathetic to admit.
“Well, that’s not a wrong answer, but it’s not the correct one either.”
“Then... Maybe the parents? They just wait around for their kids to come home from their Christmas events.”
“That’s a good guess, too.”
“Which means it’s also not the answer. This is hard. I need more hints, please.”
“Think of those customers who rarely stop by the front desk and just go straight to the elevator for the fourth floor. Does that ring a bell?”
The fourth floor is for nap dreams, mostly filled with the elderly who often take naps, or babies and animals who sleep all day and night. Penny still has no idea.
“Is it too hard? Oh, they’re coming now!”
Penny turns to the entrance where Dallergut’s pointing. There, a pack of dogs and cats come swarming in. An old dog wags his tail next to a shabby young man with a backpack as big as his body. The backpack has various pouches dangling from it, making him look like a peddler.
“Animora Bancho! I’ve been waiting for you.”
“Hello, Dallergut. You too, Penny. How’ve you been?”
“Good to see you, Bancho!” Penny’s excited to see him.
“Manager Speedo from the fourth floor called me and said they are out of stock, so here I am. You won’t believe how hard he’s been pushing me...”
Penny’s more in awe of Speedo’s ability to wrangle Bancho.
“So I quickly made more dreams. It’s been ages since I came down from the mountains; I almost got lost. If not for these boys, I would’ve gone the wrong way.”
His animals rub against his body and whimper, and Bancho pets them affectionately, as if he understands them. He mutters, “Oh, is that so? I hope my dreams are helpful to you.”
“Do you know what they’re saying?” Penny asks as she helps him put down his backpack.
“Not entirely, but I can understand them if I pay close attention,” Bancho replies, blushing bashfully.
“Wow, really? That’s amazing!”
Penny looks from Bancho to the dog clinging to him. He’s old and losing his fur in some places, but his tail is wagging.
“I remember this dog from my first tour of the fourth floor. He was in the nap dream section, checking out the ‘Playing with Owner’ corner. What did he just tell you?”
“He said, It’s late and my family hasn’t come home yet.”
The old dog gives a sad look and whimpers again.
Bancho nods and pets him gently. “He’s worried that something bad might have happened to them. Don’t worry, Leo. When you wake up from a good night’s sleep, they’ll all be back home. Do you want to try this dream I brought? I made more of that ‘Taking a Walk’ dream you love! You pups can all take one. I have plenty!”
Leo and the other animals gather around Bancho’s backpack. That’s when Penny realizes whom Dallergut was referring to when he talked about the dark horse.
It was an old but clean apartment for a family of four. The middle-aged couple was out at a dinner party, and their daughter and son were also out at holiday gatherings. Leo, the family’s old dog, who had turned twelve that year, was fast asleep, alone inside the dimly lit house.
During the day, Leo lay flat on the balcony, patiently awaiting his family’s return. Holding his ragged stuffed toy in his mouth, he went from room to room, making up for the walk he didn’t get to go on. As the day turned dark, the dim lamp automatically lit up, but it still left the house hollow, and the only thing Leo could do was sleep. Fortunately, he dozed off more often as he got older. He was fast asleep now, dreaming Bancho’s dream. Thanks to “Taking a Walk,” Leo was running around and having a good time.
Beep, beep, beep, beep.
Just then, there was the sound of the digital door unlocking. But Leo didn’t budge, deeply immersed in the dream. Half-awake, his eyes fluttered open reflexively, but he immediately fell back to sleep.
It was the four family members, who had coincidentally arrived back at the apartment at the same time.
“Oh, look at you guys, coming home before midnight? That’s new,” the dad said to his kids by the shoe closet.
“I know, right, honey? I thought you guys would be out later than us. Look at you, all grown up now,” the mom chimed in.
“We still stay out late, don’t worry. It was just, you know, a boring party.” The daughter glossed over it, and then without taking off her shoes, she called, “Leo, we’re home!”
“Maybe he’s mad because we’ve been out so long. He’s not greeting us. Just sleeping.”
“He hasn’t eaten any of his food.” The son turned on the light and checked Leo’s bowl. “And hey, don’t wake him up. He’s deep asleep.”
“Okay, okay,” the daughter said as she clung to Leo, still with her coat on. “Guys, you should take a look at this,” she called for her family, giggling.
“What is it?” The rest of them gathered around Leo.
He was lying flat on the mat, his short front legs hovering in the air as if he were running. He seemed to be smiling.
“He must be dreaming of running. Man, this is too adorable!” The son opened his phone’s camera to capture the moment.
“His legs are too fragile now. Our cutie-pie must have been dying to run if he’s dreaming about it...” The father seemed like he was choking up.
“Oh honey, you get so emotional when it comes to Leo. You were never like this with the kids,” the mom chided.
“How about we walk him right now? All of us together. Let’s have a quick stroll around the neighborhood.”
At the word walk, Leo woke up with a jolt. He realized his family was back home; he was beside himself, trotting around in circles, not sure who to greet first, wagging his balding tail as hard as he could.
It’s the last day of the year. After closing the shop, the Dallergut Dream Department Store staff gather in the lobby to watch the Dreams of the Year awards. The empty displays and cabinets have been pushed to one side to make room for a row of folding chairs brought in from the storage room. The space looks ready for the screening.
“The best way of enjoying the year-end awards is to watch it all together at the Dallergut store!” Motail from the fifth floor exclaims, as he sits in the last row with his colleagues, taking out his supply of snacks. Though they’re technically on vacation, they’ve come to the store to watch the awards together. Some have brought their elderly parents, their kids and cats.
The Leprechauns, who were invited by Motail, are flying around, adding to the commotion. They start singing one of their work songs, one they usually sing while making shoes. Mogberry has to plug her ears. All the food and drinks and merriment makes Penny giddy with excitement.
Dallergut has been struggling to power up the beam projector against the lobby wall for the last thirty minutes. He’s wearing his comfortable jeans and long-sleeve T-shirt, the projector instruction manual tucked under his armpit.
“Are we there yet, Dallergut? Do you want me to try? We should hurry, or we’ll miss the first categories! I don’t want to miss a single moment of Wawa Sleepland on-screen,” Speedo says, pestering Dallergut.
“I’m almost done. But why is the screen black?” Dallergut asks, though he remains dead set on finishing the setup himself.
“It’s been thirty minutes since the ceremony started, so they should be announcing the Rookie of the Year, then the Bestseller award. We don’t need to see that, though. It’s always been Nicholas,” someone says.
Penny starts to feel anxious. She’s more curious about the Bestseller winner than any other category. While most people assume Nicholas will win yet again, Penny’s been secretly hoping it’s Bancho, ever since Dallergut tipped her off.
Of course, it doesn’t really matter to Penny who wins, but when she thinks of Bancho’s shabby clothes and his hungry dogs, she wants to root for him.
Just then, Penny notices that two of the cables Dallergut has plugged in are in the wrong sockets. While Dallergut is busy rereading the instructions, she pretends to refill his cup and takes the chance to quickly switch the cables.
“I think it’s working now, Dallergut!”
“Finally, I did it! See, I’m not technologically illiterate! Weather should’ve seen this.”
Penny snags a seat between Dallergut and Mogberry as the awards ceremony appears on the massive screen. The camera captures a packed audience of well-dressed dreammakers.
Vigo Myers watches from the far corner, downing shots of strong whisky. “I should’ve been there...” he says, already tipsy.
“Binge drinking with kids around? What’s wrong with you?” scolds Mogberry from the front row, as she turns toward Myers.
“What do you know about me...?” Drunk Myers looks like a completely different person.
“Why did Myers give up on becoming a dreammaker, anyway?” Penny whispers to Mogberry.
“That’s a question I ask myself, too. I’m also curious to know why he got expelled from college. Regardless, he still could’ve pursued a career in dream production without a college degree, so why the pivot?” Mogberry wonders aloud. “Maybe if he gets more drunk he’ll tell us.”
As well-known dreammakers appear on-screen, the atmosphere in the room livens up.
“Did you see that? Wawa Sleepland is looking gorgeous as usual tonight!”
“Keith Gruer got his hair shaved again. Another breakup? Tut, tut.”
Everyone adds their own comments as the awards continue.
The camera now focuses on the host onstage.
“Hello to everyone watching us live at the Dream Art Center for the Dreams of the Year awards! The feverish excitement is palpable here. Hawthorne Demona just claimed Rookie of the Year, and she’s still crying in the audience. Congratulations again, Hawthorne!” The host applauds toward the audience. “Now, back to the awards! We’re running a little behind, but next up is the Bestseller award. Which dream had the biggest sales in December? Will defending champion Santa Claus win again? If so, it’ll mark his fifteenth win, an unprecedented record! Well, let’s see our nominees first.”
The screen splits into four, showing each candidate. Nicholas, who is absent again, is replaced by the big text “Santa Claus,” and the rest of the nominees are caught off guard seeing their faces captured on camera.
Keith Gruer, well-known for his romantic dreams, scratches his shaved head with a bashful smile. The fantasy/science fiction dreammaker Celine Gluck is mildly surprised, but quickly recovers as she blows kisses amid an enthusiastic roar from the audience. But the last nominee looks like he has a huge fishbone stuck in his throat.
“Is that Animora Bancho? Unbelievable!” shouts Speedo from his seat behind Penny. He never expected to see Bancho on-screen. Penny’s heart is pounding, thrilled to see him nominated like Dallergut predicted.
The host pauses to build the tension, before delivering his lines. “Now, the Bestseller award goes to...”
Penny clenches her fists. Please, please...
Dallergut holds his breath in the seat next to her.
“This is incredible. We have a new winner! The award goes to Animora Bancho!”
As soon as it’s announced, the room erupts. Penny and Dallergut stand up and cheer.
“Mr. Bancho, please come on up. Could anyone help him? He seems frozen in shock!”
Dumbstruck, his mouth agape, Bancho is forced to go up onstage, but even when he receives the grant envelope, he still doesn’t seem to believe what’s happening. His oversize suit looks as though it was borrowed from a thrift store, but he manages to pull it off fine.
“Come on now, Bancho. Your fans across the world are waiting to hear your reaction,” the host comically urges him.
“S-sure, of course! Well... This is a surprise. I never thought I’d win this award, even though I did feel my sales had improved significantly this month. But anyway, thank you so much. I especially want to thank my regulars: Leo, Ebony, Lucky, Snowball, Aaji, Charcoal, Mandu, Love, Nana, Choco... I should stop there, or else I could go on and on. To all my furry friends! I know you might not be able to catch this ceremony, but I want to tell you how incredibly happy I am to have met you all. I got the prize money!” Bancho holds up the envelope. “This will help me create many more great dreams for you! So please stay healthy, eat well and sleep well. Stick around with me as long as you can!” He seems much more at ease now that he’s addressing his animal friends. “It was just a few years ago when my only dream was to have my products on display at the Dallergut Dream Department Store. I can’t believe I’m receiving this award. Hey, Dallergut, are you watching? Thank you so much for believing in me and offering me a contract when I was a nobody.”
People in the store whoop and scream at the mention of Dallergut.
“Wait, no mention of me?” Speedo balks.
“And... To everyone’s Santa Claus, Nicholas. I’m sure you’re watching from home. You know, I’ve always wanted to make the world a better place for children and animals. And then I met you. You’re my role model. You’ve already achieved the very goal I’m pursuing—creating dreams that make kids happy. I looked up to you so much that I even settled in the snowy mountains, determined to create dreams for animals. I wanted to follow in your footsteps. I know it’s you leaving the food and firewood at my front gate every morning. If it weren’t for you, I’d have starved to death or been frostbitten by now. Dearest Nicholas! Allow me to take this award from now on, and you should start aiming for the Grand Prix next year! I’ll stop by your cabin with some wine. Oh no, the host says I’m out of time now.”
The audience bursts into laughter.
“So that’s it for my speech, and I’ll be dismissed. Thank you, guys, and Happy New Year!”
He makes his way back to his seat, amid genuine cheers and applause.
After Animora Bancho’s unexpected win, the Dallergut staff play guessing games for the remaining categories. Motail gets in a drunken discussion with Vigo Myers about potential winners.
“Who will win the Grand Prix of the Year? Most likely one of the Legendary Big Five, I guess?”
“That’s a given. My bet for Best Art is on Sleepland’s ‘Living Rainforest,’ so it would be either Kick Slumber or Yasnoozz Otra for the Grand Prix. It’s always been a competition among the five...no one else has ever won.”
“Why not Babynap Rockabye or Doje?” Motail suggests.
“Doje has never come to these awards, plus he didn’t create any new dreams this year. As for Rockabye, she’s already won the Grand Prix a couple of times with the same repertoire. This year will be tough for her. I’m betting on either Kick Slumber’s ‘Flying as an Eagle on the Cliff’ or Yasnoozz Otra’s ‘Putting Yourself in Someone Else’s Shoes Part Seven: Living as a Bully of Mine for a Month.’”
As Vigo Myers predicted, the Best Art award goes to Wawa Sleepland’s ‘Living Rainforest.’ The screen shows an edited version of Wawa’s award-winning dream in all its otherworldly beauty. The color scheme’s wondrous spectrum changes according to the time of day and the direction of the sunlight. Penny gets why the judges’ votes were unanimous.
“If I were a judge, I wouldn’t give the Best Art award to the dream. I would give it to Sleepland herself. She is way more beautiful than her work,” says Speedo, mesmerized by Sleepland as her face fills the entire screen. He moves right in front of the projector to be closer to her.
“Get out of the way, Speedo. We can’t see a thing!” shouts drunk Myers. “And would you please tie up your hair? It’s going all over the floor.”
Best Screenplay goes to Hawthorne Demona, who also won Rookie of the Year. She’s at a loss for words and cries, overwhelmed by another win. Her dream, “The Lonely Crowd,” is about being treated as invisible. It receives wide acclaim from the judges for its social commentary on the attention-seeking mindset by locking the characters in extreme solitude and amplifying their emotions.
Apparently, that is not how Myers sees it at all. “Total nonsense. Those kinds of dreams have been around since I was, like, three. What a sneaky move to copy an existing, hoary dream with a slight title change. She may have fooled the judges, but she can’t fool me!”
The ceremony is nearing the end, with only the last award, the Grand Prix, remaining. Motail roams around, asking people whether Kick Slumber or Yasnoozz Otra will win.
“Your turn, Penny. Who would you vote for?”
“Is there any prize if I get it right?”
“Oh, right! I forgot this is your first time. Yes, we give out a gift card to all the staff members who guess the winner of the Grand Prix correctly. Dallergut’s treat, basically. You can get any dream in the store for free. It’s the highlight of the year-end awards!”
“Really?” Shocked, Penny looks at Dallergut, who sits next to her.
“Last year, over a hundred staffers got the winner right, and I almost started the new year bankrupt because they only picked expensive dreams...” Dallergut recalls, looking somewhere between wistful and despondent.
Penny thinks hard and eventually writes down “Kick Slumber” on the paper Motail handed out. Lots of staff write down unfamiliar names. Mogberry selects a particularly obscure dreammaker, Chef Grang Bong.
“Mogberry, who is Chef Grang Bong?”
“He’s the owner of a dream store I frequent. He exclusively makes and sells eating dreams, and he was very helpful when I was on my diet. Thanks to him, I could eat as many french fries as I wanted in my dream, without ruining my meal plan. Though the one drawback was that I woke up much hungrier! But he’s the best for me! Wait, they’re announcing the Grand Prix winner now!”
After a special performance, the host, now in a new, fancier suit, comes up onstage for the Grand Prix winner announcement.
“I have two nominees for the Grand Prix of the Year in my hand. What dream will take the honor of best dream of the year?”
The host slowly takes out a piece of paper from the envelope. “These are the two nominees. Let me get to them right away! The first nominee is Kick Slumber for ‘Flying as an Eagle on the Cliff’! And the second nominee is Yasnoozz Otra for ‘Putting Yourself in Someone Else’s Shoes Part Seven: Living as a Bully of Mine for a Month’!”
The second-floor staff all stand up to applaud Vigo Myers, whose prediction was right on point. He shrugs contentedly, his lips twitching.
“But there’s only one winner of the Grand Prix award! I can already hear you shouting the names. Everyone watching us live, who do you think is the winner? Let me hear you scream the name!”
As soon as the host says that, everyone in the store chants “Slumber” or “Otra.” Penny joins in, shouting, “Slumber!” The tension in the room excites her. It’s like a play-off sports game.
“And the Grand Prix of the Year goes to...”
The host waits for a beat, and the crowd’s chanting grows faster, morphing into one giant crescendo. As the tension rises, he peeks in the envelope, takes a big gulp and shouts the name.
“Kick Slumber’s ‘Flying as an Eagle on the Cliff’! Congratulations!”
Cheers and sighs explode all at once. Penny hugs other Slumber voters and excitedly spins around with them in circles. Some are strangers to Penny, but they’re all united by the shared moment of joy.
Motail cheers, swinging his coat up in the air. Speedo leans against the wall in disappointment, having voted for Yasnoozz Otra. The cheers echo outside the dream store, and the entire street celebrates.
Penny notices a pack of Noctilucas outside the window, running around and screaming with joy too. No doubt Assam’s among them. He’s an avid Kick Slumber fan.
From the audience, Kick Slumber shares a congratulatory hug with Yasnoozz Otra, on his way to the stage. The camera catches Wawa Sleepland in tears, as excited for Kick Slumber as if she herself had won.
“Slumber’s dream ingeniously captures the realistic sensation of an eagle—the desperation it faces at the edge of a dangerous cliff, and the dramatic moment when it spreads its wings and soars high! Congratulations, Mr. Slumber!” The host reads his lines as Kick Slumber approaches the stage.
When the dreammaker finally reaches the podium, the room goes silent. Glowing tan skin, thick eyebrows, sharp jawline and pitch-dark eyes. He’s standing on his signature crutches. He was born with a short right leg that only reaches the knee.
“Thank you very much for this award. I have the greatest honor yet again,” Slumber begins. His voice trembles, but everyone is too captivated to notice. “I’ve made a lot of boring speeches already, so this time, I’d like to share something personal. Forgive me in advance if it’s still boring.”
Motail, who’s been roaming around chitchatting, quietly takes his seat.
“As you can see, my mobility is limited,” Kick Slumber continues, pointing at his right leg with one of his crutches. “When I was thirteen, my mentor taught me how to create animal dreams for humans. As some of you may already know, this was how my dream ‘Crossing the Pacific Ocean as a Whale’ came to be.”
The audience hoots in recognition.
“People praised the dream, claiming it allowed them to experience true freedom. But it got me thinking about my own freedom. I can walk, run and fly in a dream unencumbered, but when I wake up to reality, I can’t do any of those things without support. Yet the whales roaming the ocean are not free on land, and the eagles soaring through the sky are not free in the ocean. Freedom comes in different shapes and forms; every living thing is granted limited freedom.” Kick Slumber glances into the camera lens then out across the room.
“What makes you feel you’re not free?” he asks to the breathless audience. “Whatever it is that has you bound—whether that is a place, a time, or an outdated belief around a physical disability... Please don’t dwell there. Instead, seek out the things that do bring you freedom. And during that journey, you may feel like you’re at the edge of a cliff. That’s how I felt this year. I had to fall off the cliff a thousand times—maybe tens of thousands of times—to perfect this one dream. But the moment I decided not to look down and resolved to kick off the cliff and fly, I was finally able to complete this dream of an eagle soaring high in the sky. I truly hope that you will also have this moment in your life. It would be my dream come true to have my dream inspire you in any way. Thank you again for this award.”
A storm of applause.
Kick Slumber closes his lips tightly and nods at the host in gratitude for allowing him to complete his long speech. He looks back to the camera. “I would also like to take this time to thank someone special who has helped me along the way. Thank you, Wawa Sleepland, for contributing the scenery in my dream. You have gifted me with the deep ocean, the expansive sky and the warm field. I dedicate this award to you, my love, and I hope to continue our partnership for as long as we can.”
“My, what a lovely couple!” Mogberry exclaims.
Speedo slumps down in front of the big screen.
“Everyone, this year’s Grand Prix winner: Kick Slumber!” The host takes the microphone. “Tonight should be an unforgettable night for Slumber fans everywhere. Thank you for staying with us throughout this long event. I’m Bamady Han, and I’m honored to have been your host. Happy dreams in the new year, everyone!”
The ceremony is over, but the Dallergut Dream Department Store is still hopping. To everyone’s surprise, Mogberry is spiritedly talking with the Leprechauns. “Oh my God, you’re touching up my hair? That’s so sweet!” she says, gratefully looking at her hand mirror as some of the Leprechauns fly around her and tidy up her baby hairs. “My hair looks so dark and shiny! All my baby hairs are gone. Thank you, guys!”
Penny think she smells shoe polish coming from Mogberry’s hair, but she turns a blind eye. She has been meaning to find the right time to ask Vigo Myers about his college expulsion, but he’s sound asleep, drunk. Maybe next time, she thinks.
Dallergut quietly rises and starts counting gift cards for the winners of the bet. Penny realizes he has more gift cards than there were winners. It seems everybody will go home with their hands full.
The roaming Noctilucas, seeing the lights from the store, come in, along with some customers, to check out the commotion. It’s the most festive night, and the one-minute countdown to the new year is about to begin.
Thirty seconds... Ten seconds... Five seconds...
“Three! Two!” shouts Dallergut. “One! HAPPY NEW YEAR!”
For Penny, this last night of the year, spent with her beloved community, is everything.