Alice stumbled upon a field of blue poppies whose opulent perfume enveloped her in a slow daze.

“This is nice,” she said, setting her picnic basket down and sitting on a soft bed of flowers. “Perhaps I’ll take a nap.”

The Cheshire Cat appeared before her, its tail slinking around her neck before the rest of it materialized, grin last. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” said the Cat. “First of all, if you fall asleep in a dream, you may never wake up. Secondly, you’re conflating stories. You’re not Dorothy, you know.”

Alice frowned. “Who are you to tell me whether or not I can nap? You’re just a silly disappearing cat.”

“Am I silly? I would dearly love to be considered so, it’s been my highest aspiration for many a year. Come now,” said the Cat, seeing Alice’s eyes droop. “Why don’t I show you to a more comfortable place? A secret spot only I know.”

Alice perked up. “Okay! I love secret spots. Is it a garden?”

“Sort of,” replied the Cat, shooting her his trademark grin. “Follow me.” He led Alice out of the field towards a black forest dotted with sun-speckled carpets of moss.

“Ooh you’re right,” said Alice. “This is much better for sleeping.”

She started to put her stuff down on one of the moss beds, but the Cheshire Cat raised a paw. “A-hem. Did I say we were there yet?”

Alice hopped up and followed the Cat deeper into the forest, until the sun had all but disappeared. It was dead quiet but not dark, their way lit by tiny phosphorescent rose buds which glowed like floating fireflies. The Cat reached up and held open a canopy of tree boughs with his tail. “In here,” he said, disappearing into the darkness.

Alice ducked into the hole and blinked a few times, her eyes adjusting to the soft glows emanating from undulating wide objects on the ground. “What are these?”

“Just wait.”

The air around them thickened with a soft red and white ambiance lit by a sea of crimson caps.

“Ooh! Toadstools!”

“None other.” The Cat plopped onto the center of a large one and curled up into a ball. “Soft. Doughy. Psychedelic. Can’t be beat.”

Alice stepped onto the nearest toadstool, which arched its back to accommodate her so she wouldn’t fall off. “You’re right, Mr. Cat. I can feel the goodness seeping into my skin.”

“Just don’t gnaw on them. Poisonous if consumed. Gotta stick to regular mushrooms for your ravioli and the like.”

“Right, I’ll remember that,” said Alice, a wide yawn distorting her words. In another few seconds she was fast asleep, dreaming of a white rabbit who chased her through a land of dancing red and blue toadstools into the arms of a voracious Beast (speaking of conflated fairy tales).

This recipe was featured in Phoenix Helix’s Paleo AIP Recipe Roundtable. Check it out there!

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