It all started, as these things often do, with Felipe’s big idea. Picture it. Dreamspace Taqueria, 2025. A little Mexican long-faced armadillo with a spectacularly glittery and colorful carapace was in his taco truck just off the hub of the Dreamspace. As he was mixing up the vat of Mexican-style hot chocolate, a waft of fragrant steam hit his nose. The smell made him ache for his family in the Overworld.
Suddenly, mid-stir, Felipe exclaimed out loud to no one in particular, “I should make a big holiday newsletter with a fancy snapshot and matching outfits to update everyone here and in the Overworld.” This idea sparked excitement and kept the story centered on the holiday theme.
Felipe tossed the spoon, which left chocolatey splatters all over the walls of his food truck, and bolted outside and down the path towards the big tree. On his way there, he saw Thimble.
He skidded to a stop, almost running into her. “Thimble,” he declared on such a blustery morning, “this is the year. The proper family holiday letter—photos, stories, the whole shebang! My mamá and tías will love it.” His tail twitched with excitement.
Thimble, never one to pass up an excuse for festivities, straightened her glasses. “Holiday tree it is! Let’s raid the attic.”
Soon, the pair were shoulder-deep in the dusty treasures of the Dreamspace treehouse. After considerable wrestling, they freed the enormous, slightly lopsided artificial tree. They hauled it, pine needles and tinsel flying down to the mosaic square, lantern flickering in the gentle winter breeze.
Stringing lights and hanging baubles was a team effort, especially once a grumpy barn owl swooped down and silently judged. She watched for a moment before gracefully ferrying strands of lights to the highest branches, adding a whimsical touch to the scene.
“Felipe, I have it!” He whispered, eyes wide with delight. “What if the owl wears a Santa hat and sits on top of the tree? She could be the star!” This playful idea sparks a sense of magic and surprise, encouraging the audience to feel the wonder of holiday imagination.
Thimble’s gasp was pure delight. “Oh, do you think she’ll let us?”
The owl’s answering glare made her opinion clear: “Owls do not wear hats, nor do they serve as holiday ornaments,” She said with a screech and an aggressive flapping of her wings.
But Felipe’s charm is legendary, and with promises of extra treats, he eventually convinced the owl to don a tiny red hat and settle (grumpily) atop the tree — just for the photo.
Invitations went out across Dreamspace: group text, hand-delivered notes, shouts across the meadow, and pinged Allison’s phone in the Overworld — Family photo! Red, white, and green sweaters! Center mosaic, now!
Soon, the square buzzed with laughter and warmth, the air filled with excitement and cozy cheer. Spud pranced in a snowflake jumper, dragonflies zipped by in tiny knitted scarves, and Thimble double-checked her fairy lights, creating a scene of joyful togetherness that invites the audience to feel the holiday spirit.
Somehow, Sol got volunteered to take the photo (these things happen). Herding Dreamspace’s finest into a frame is no small feat. The owl, resplendent in her Santa hat, fixated on Sol with the look of one who has seen far too much.
Sol, being good with the techy stuff, set the timer and hurried into place. Allison leaned in to double-check positions. There was a hush. Everyone smiled.
Suddenly, the shyest fox in Dreamspace slipped out from under the tree, wearing a tiny emerald bow tie and a sprig of spruce clipped jauntily to his ear. Quietly, he wedged himself between your legs and Allison’s, tongue lolling and eyes bright, as if he’d been part of the scene all along.
Click.
No one saw the fox arrive, and by the time you reviewed the photo — crowded around the phone, everyone cheering — the little orange face with the black nose was already gone, as if he’d never been there at all.
Later, as the party faded and Allison waved goodbye, stepping through the portal home, you, Thimble, and Felipe huddled around the computer, editing the family newsletter. The barn owl, now hatless and considerably less grumpy, napped by the hearth.
“Look!” Thimble cried, pointing to the window. The first snowfall of the year drifted silently over Dreamspace, softly dusting the lanterns and cobblestones in gentle white, filling everyone with a peaceful, festive calm.
Inside, the warmth and laughter lingered long after the flakes began to fall. The family photo, owl, fox, sweaters, and all were ready for the world, a perfect moment in a place where magic always sneaks in from the edges.
