Allied with Flakes of Parsley
When sleep stumbles and logic leaks sideways, you may find yourself in the presence of a Dremlik—armored in nonsense, armed with riddles, and trailing the crisp scent of parsley.
| Height: | Unmeasurable, changes often |
| Temperament: | Uncanny, theatrical, deeply amused |
| Delights: | Muddled dreams, poorly folded laundry, idle threats, dried parsley in wind |
| Detests: | Alarm clocks, clarified instructions, the color beige, parsley that is still wet |
| Botanical Link: | Flakes of Parsley |
Dremliks were first recorded in the margins of 16th-century French manuscripts, particularly in illustrated dream journals and monk’s complaints. Said to inhabit the borderlands between waking and REM sleep, Dremliks feed not on fear, but on the awkward surrealism of interrupted naps.
While their physical appearance is mutable, common themes include: one leg always forward, heads turned sideways or inside-out, and arms either multiplied or not present at all. Their faces often appear human but never quite familiar. Dremliks speak in crooked rhymes, rarely answering questions directly unless parsley is present.
Dremliks appear in cluttered bedrooms, attic stairwells, half-read books, and anywhere sleep is incomplete. They are drawn to contradiction—chilly sunlight, forgotten chores, dreams where you almost understood the ending. They do not stay long, only long enough to twist a moment out of shape and sprinkle nonsense across your thoughts like flakes of dried green.
| Behavior | Likelihood | Notes |
| Whispering riddles during naps | ★★★★☆ | Usually in your own voice, but wrong. |
| Rearranging parsley flakes into runes | ★★★☆☆ | Leave the pattern undisturbed until morning. |
| Borrowing socks, never returning them | ★★★★★ | A Dremlik’s preferred tax for passing through. |
Hint: If the absurd suddenly feels reasonable and your parsley jar is open, a Dremlik is probably nearby.
The Dremlik’s form varies wildly, but look for humanoid figures with disproportionate limbs, objects used incorrectly (helmets made of squash, faces like coin purses), and movement that seems staged. They cast shadows that flicker too slowly and often move just behind your eyelids.
The rustle of dry herbs. The whimper of laughter stifled at the wrong time. A knock on your headboard with no one there. Some dreamers report a sound like a lute being tuned backwards.
Their trail smells of dried parsley, old wood, and misplaced certainty. The scent often lingers after a dream that makes sense only while you’re dreaming it. In some cases, the scent strengthens near single socks or cupboards left open by accident.
Ingredients: Flakes of Parsley, a mismatched sock, a candle
Method:
Outcome: Encourages dreams of insight through nonsense. May result in surprising ideas or pleasant bewilderment.
| Metric | Score |
| Global Population | ★★★☆☆ |
| Human Encounters | ★★★☆☆ |
| Conservation Status | Thrives in chaos, mildly repelled by sleep hygiene |
Flakes of Parsley are more than garnish—they are Dremlik lures, dream anchors, and green specks of nonsense. Ours are gently air-dried, crumbled, and wax-sealed to preserve their peculiar charm.
