Tommy was alone. No surprise there, considering the fact that he was still stuck on that wretched beach. Dream came by the day before. Sure, he came by to blow up his stuff again, but hey, at least someone visited, right? Tommy never knew how cold the beach got in December. Turns out, it was pretty damn cold. He hadn't even realized it was nearing Christmas until Dream told him so. Now Tommy had a shitty little (dead) tree with nothing underneath it. He sat next to the fire he had built for himself, shivering in his torn up t-shirt. "Merry fuckin Christmas to me..." He muttered.