Christmas with Nick Klaas

Part 23: A Decidedly Un-Silent Night

Fever dreams could be deadly. Noelle had her first and—until now—only experience with one during her freshman year in college when half of her dorm came down with the flu. She was one of the especially unlucky ones whose case turned into full-blown meningitis. For two weeks she was bed-bound, and for one incredibly scary twenty-four hours, her one hundred and three degree temperature landed her in the hospital where she hallucinated all night long.

Who'd have thought that getting lost and passing out in the middle of a blizzard in an Arctic-adjacent part of Finland would land her in a similar predicament? This time, though, the experience came with an extra dose of holiday misery. Noelle's entire being felt as if someone had pressed shuffle on a Spotify playlist of the most annoying Christmas songs inside her head. Santa Claus was coming to jingle bell rock even though baby, it was cold outside, and a white Christmas was all that he wanted.

The tunes were garbled, and the resulting cacophony was overwhelming. In a heated frenzy, she tossed and turned to shake the juxtaposed melodies out of her mind, but they just intensified.

A sleigh ride in the silent night among the Christmas trees led to Mommy kissing Santa, but ended when Grandma got run over by a reindeer. Noelle squeezed her eyes closed more fiercely even though they were already shut, but the result was unchanged. The words flew at her in rapid succession, bouncing around like kernels of corn in an air popper.

Sleigh bells. Jingle bells. Silver bells. Bells. Balls. Snow balls. Snow flakes. Snow men. Amen. Hallelujah. Holy night. Holy. Holly. Holly jolly.

She wanted to scream, to snap herself out of this nightmare somehow, but no matter how hard she struggled, an unseen force was pushing her further into the dark recesses of her subconscious.

White Christmas. Blue Christmas. Last Christmas. Twelve days of Christmas. I'll be home for Christmas. Have yourself a merry Christmas. Christmas. Christmas! CHRISTMAS!!!

Her eardrums throbbed, which was curious since none of this was real. Her head also pounded. She was hot. She was cold. Worst of all, Noelle was frightened in spite of knowing she was unconscious. All she wanted was to wake up, yet she just fell deeper.

She was no longer simply hearing the sounds of the season, but rather she was seeing it in all of its horrible, shimmering glory. Lights twinkled, and candles flickered. Snowflakes glistened, and bows sparkled. The visual assault and the knowledge she couldn't stop it made her eyes water. The warm liquid streamed down her face, but these weren't simple tears brought on by a literal optical illusion. Her ragged breathing and despondent feelings made it clear: she was sobbing.

Was that even possible? Could a person cry in their sleep?

A sharp yip made her lose interest in the answer. Suddenly, all the previous sights and sounds disappeared, and Noelle was back, face down in the snow. Turning her head to the side, she willed herself to open her eyes in spite of being deathly afraid of what she'd see. But there, under the light of the moon and in the middle of a snowstorm, a white hare sat, staring at her.

With its chunky body, stubby ears and nervously twitching nose, it was the cutest thing she'd ever seen. Resisting the urge to reach out and scare it away, she wondered what had drawn the little guy out of the forest to her before movement in the brush caught her attention.

Unbothered, the hare also looked back, then waited patiently as an Arctic fox emerged from the shadows. Trudging toward them with its bushy, white tail and coal-black eyes and nose, the animal—not much bigger than a large house cat—approached with purpose. But unlike when she'd thought she was being pursued by a wolf, this time Noelle wasn't scared.