why I love you.
A mushroom was growing out of your nose.
Because of the mushroom, you couldn't speak.
But you explained to me nonetheless that I hadn’t understood a thing.
Which I realized!
Where your eyes must have been, behind the ever-growing mushroom, sprigs of parsley were sprouting.
Your mouth dropped like a potato, still mouthing something as it was falling down.
Startled, I stepped back before your mushroom head could touch me or the parsley could tickle me.
– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2026)
Posted in response to Friday Writings #250: Memories and Dreams, this is actually the translation of a surreal dream I’d originally written down in German. The painting above by Giuseppe Arcimboldo (1526-1593) would seem a good match for this vegetable-centric dream.
