Food of Knowledge
The Salmon of Forgotten Wisdom
This myth begins, as all myths do, with another myth—and like all myths, it contains truths, half-truths, lies, and stories yet untold.
It begins in Otherworld, a dimension apart from our own. There, in a singular and rare location, lies a confluence of ley lines—an energetic nexus connected not only to the unseen threads of the world, but to the Akashic Record itself. Such places are rare enough, but stranger still was the twist of fate—or perhaps some odd kink in destiny—that allowed a tree to grow in that very spot.
Not just any tree. It resembled a hazelnut, yes, but it was of a magical species—one that could absorb psychic energy from ley lines and distill it into its fruit. This particular tree bore nine nuts each year, each one infused with fragments of wisdom drawn from the Akashic current. They were of great value… would that the tree were widely known. And would that it did not grow out over a deep pond.
Each time the nuts ripened, they fell—plop, plop—into the pond below.
Were that the whole of the tale, it might end there. But the pond was not empty.
It was part of a migration route for the Dream-Salmon, a great fish native to Otherworld. Resembling a massive pink salmon, its eyes shimmered with a hypnotic glow that could send any being into slumber should they meet its gaze. But more than just strange, these salmon did not migrate upstream—they traversed the ley lines themselves, slipping through worlds.
And it so happened that one such Dream-Salmon returned each cycle, drawn instinctively to that pond, always at the right time to feast upon the falling nuts. Year after year, it fed upon the tree’s wisdom. And so it changed. The fish became... more. Its body absorbed countless fragments of insight and memory until it swam through dimensions not as a fish, but as a vessel of knowledge.
This was the very salmon eaten by Fionn mac Cumhaill. But it was not the first to eat of the Tree of Knowledge, nor the last. Fafnir, the dwarf-turned-dragon, once devoured the nuts in secret. Serpentine dragons, Welsh sorcerers, and even Ceridwen, who brewed the potion of inspiration that touched the lips of Taliesin, all drew from the same source.
Yet few know the deeper truth: that Fionn's salmon was not alone. It spawned—frequently and abundantly. Each offspring carried a tiny spark of the wisdom it had consumed, fragments of memory, prophecy, or forgotten thought. And when leyline storms or dimensional breaches brought these Dream-Salmon to Earth, their offspring sometimes ended up in lakes, rivers, or oceans—mistaken for common salmon.
On rare occasions, when someone caught one—and managed not to meet its gaze and fall asleep—they would cook and eat it, never realizing the gift they’d just consumed.
Most felt nothing more than a strange dream. Others awoke with a new idea, a sudden insight, or a phrase that felt older than language. They would not know why.
And so, perhaps, the old saying persists in whispers and traditions:
“Fish is brain food.”
And perhaps it is.
For every so often, someone, somewhere, might still dine on the flesh of a Dream-Salmon weather it be while fishing in the wild, at a restaurant or even from a tin of salmon...
and remember something they never knew they forgot
Thus is Strange Knowledge spread.
It begins in Otherworld, a dimension apart from our own. There, in a singular and rare location, lies a confluence of ley lines—an energetic nexus connected not only to the unseen threads of the world, but to the Akashic Record itself. Such places are rare enough, but stranger still was the twist of fate—or perhaps some odd kink in destiny—that allowed a tree to grow in that very spot.
Not just any tree. It resembled a hazelnut, yes, but it was of a magical species—one that could absorb psychic energy from ley lines and distill it into its fruit. This particular tree bore nine nuts each year, each one infused with fragments of wisdom drawn from the Akashic current. They were of great value… would that the tree were widely known. And would that it did not grow out over a deep pond.
Each time the nuts ripened, they fell—plop, plop—into the pond below.
Were that the whole of the tale, it might end there. But the pond was not empty.
It was part of a migration route for the Dream-Salmon, a great fish native to Otherworld. Resembling a massive pink salmon, its eyes shimmered with a hypnotic glow that could send any being into slumber should they meet its gaze. But more than just strange, these salmon did not migrate upstream—they traversed the ley lines themselves, slipping through worlds.
And it so happened that one such Dream-Salmon returned each cycle, drawn instinctively to that pond, always at the right time to feast upon the falling nuts. Year after year, it fed upon the tree’s wisdom. And so it changed. The fish became... more. Its body absorbed countless fragments of insight and memory until it swam through dimensions not as a fish, but as a vessel of knowledge.
This was the very salmon eaten by Fionn mac Cumhaill. But it was not the first to eat of the Tree of Knowledge, nor the last. Fafnir, the dwarf-turned-dragon, once devoured the nuts in secret. Serpentine dragons, Welsh sorcerers, and even Ceridwen, who brewed the potion of inspiration that touched the lips of Taliesin, all drew from the same source.
Yet few know the deeper truth: that Fionn's salmon was not alone. It spawned—frequently and abundantly. Each offspring carried a tiny spark of the wisdom it had consumed, fragments of memory, prophecy, or forgotten thought. And when leyline storms or dimensional breaches brought these Dream-Salmon to Earth, their offspring sometimes ended up in lakes, rivers, or oceans—mistaken for common salmon.
On rare occasions, when someone caught one—and managed not to meet its gaze and fall asleep—they would cook and eat it, never realizing the gift they’d just consumed.
Most felt nothing more than a strange dream. Others awoke with a new idea, a sudden insight, or a phrase that felt older than language. They would not know why.
And so, perhaps, the old saying persists in whispers and traditions:
“Fish is brain food.”
And perhaps it is.
For every so often, someone, somewhere, might still dine on the flesh of a Dream-Salmon weather it be while fishing in the wild, at a restaurant or even from a tin of salmon...
and remember something they never knew they forgot
Thus is Strange Knowledge spread.
Summary
The Salmon of Forgotten Wisdom is a myth rooted in the Otherworld, telling of a magical tree that grows above a ley line confluence tied to the Akashic Record. Each year, the tree drops nine nuts infused with knowledge into a pond, where Dream-Salmon feed upon them. One such salmon was eaten by Fionn mac Cumhaill, granting him divine wisdom—but many lesser salmon also carried fragments of insight. These rare fish sometimes slip into the mortal world, and their flesh is said to bestow sudden genius or forgotten truths upon those who eat them—perhaps explaining the old saying, “fish is brain food.”
Historical Basis
While the magical nuts or Dream-Salmon of the myth are exceedingly rare—or entirely mythical—on Earth, the concept of “fish as brain food” has strong grounding in reality. Fish, especially fatty varieties like salmon, are rich in omega-3 fatty acids such as DHA and EPA, which are essential for brain development, memory, and cognitive health. This nutritional truth may have helped anchor the myth in human belief systems, blurring the line between ancient folklore and modern science.
Spread
While many cultures share myths of food that grants wisdom, the tale of the Dream-Salmon likely traces its roots to the Irish legend of Fionn mac Cumhaill and the Salmon of Knowledge. From ancient Ireland, the story spread into broader Celtic folklore, echoed in Welsh tales like that of Taliesin. As Celtic diaspora reached the UK and beyond, echoes of the myth found their way into global storytelling traditions—sometimes warped, sometimes forgotten, yet still faintly present in sayings, superstitions, and the reverence for “brain food.”
Variations & Mutation
Many myths across cultures echo the core theme of consuming something to gain divine or arcane knowledge. Fafnir’s heart, the Norse Mead of Poetry, the contents of Cerridwen’s Cauldron of Inspiration, and the tale of the White Serpent—a rare, small water serpent said to have eaten the nuts of wisdom—are all considered variations of this root myth. Such stories appear throughout Ireland, Scotland, Scandinavia, and the Baltic regions, and even occasionally beyond Europe. Despite their differences, these legends often trace back—explicitly or symbolically—to the same origin: the singular, audacious tree that grew atop a ley line confluence tied to the Akashic Record, seeding the world with knowledge one nut at a time.
Cultural Reception
Food of knowledge is often regarded—accurately or not—as the hidden source behind a hero’s otherworldly wisdom or uncanny insight. From prophets and poets to warriors and sages, many legendary figures are said to have partaken in such a meal, consciously or by fate. Whether it’s a fish, a nut, a potion, or a serpent, cultures often frame these moments as divine gifts or initiations, setting chosen individuals apart as vessels of higher understanding. The motif persists as a symbol of earned or fated enlightenment, and its echoes remain deeply embedded in folklore, literature, and even popular culture.
In Literature
The concept of food that grants wisdom has appeared in countless literary works across cultures and eras. One of the most notable examples is The White Serpent, a tale collected by the Brothers Grimm, in which a servant gains the ability to understand animals after tasting the flesh of a mysterious serpent. This story, like many others, echoes the ancient motif of consuming a magical creature or substance to attain secret knowledge—tying modern literature back to the same mythic root as the Dream-Salmon and the Tree of Wisdom.
In Art
Artistic depictions of the food of wisdom often blend natural imagery with symbols of enlightenment—fish bearing runes, trees with glowing fruit, or cauldrons radiating light. Medieval manuscripts, Celtic knotwork, Norse carvings, and illuminated texts all hint at this archetype, especially in depictions of Fionn mac Cumhaill, the Cauldron of Inspiration, or the Mead of Poetry. In modern times, the motif appears in fantasy illustrations and concept art, often portraying the Dream-Salmon or the Tree of Knowledge as luminous, otherworldly elements rooted in mythic power.
Date of First Recording
Primarily 7th to 10th century CE
Date of Setting
The heroic age of Ireland 2nd to 4th century CE
The Salmon of Forgotten Wisdom beautifully blurs the line between myth and memory, turning a simple meal into a moment of divine inheritance—and reminding us that stories, like nutrients, can feed the soul. It’s striking how myth and biology intertwine to preserve ancient truths in everyday sayings. Do those who unknowingly consume a Dream-Salmon always gain insight—or can the knowledge sometimes lie dormant, waiting for the right moment to awaken?