Monday, October 17, 2005
Bill had a strange dream, bursts of red and yellow light flashing all around him. When he awoke he was a mushroom in a pleasant patch of soil, near a tree and a running brook. Two lady mushrooms sprang up beside him, beginning a conversation.
"You can be very proud," they told him in unison.
"But why? But what?" he answered, naturally disorientated by the transformation.
"You're bright and brilliant and happy birthday," their voices came, almost a song.
"It's my birthday," he repeated slowly, to see if it might mean anything to him.
"You've just joined us in the Bohemian forest." Their voices again, reciting, as a classroom of children might with one voice tell their teacher, "One plus one is two."
"I've always wanted to have a Slavic soul."
"And now you're part of the collective."
"I'll have ideas! I'll be inspired!"
"If you don't and you aren't, we'll assist!"
He closed his eyes and mused. Under the congenial auspices of the femmes a la fungi he felt inspired. He had ideas. Fairy tales flashed before him. Bouncing and spinning notions swirled into imagery unimagined in his usual trains of thought. Ideas couldn't rush in fast enough before other ideas pounced upon them, merging into a new, ever-evolving inspiration.
"Eureka!" he cried in a sort of mental orgasm of aesthetic certainty. The girl mushrooms applauded. The idea, the forest, and his existence as a Slavic mushroom were the thoughts immortalized in his mind as the Czech mycologist harvested him for his fungi stew, over which he was certain to dream up some great new work of art.
All contributions have been reposted at indeterminacies.blogspot.com.
Original post: This will be the big mushrom madness weekend, and is of course dedicated to one of my most faithful visitors, Mushroom. So let's all write some great stories for this picture! I'll post mine on Monday.