Yume no Tengu

I had the strangest dream the other night. I was in Kyoto, specifically Kibune, at the Tori that marks a path up Mount Kurama. A Geisha stood with her back to me, peering over her shoulder from behind a parasol, a red sun painted in the centre. The hem of her kimono displayed Mount Fuji, whilst the cuffs were a latch work of sakura branches in blossom. I was enticed, not least of all because she appeared to be on fire. It lapped & danced around her head, arms and body, a blazing aura that gave off no heat. As she glided up the path, I was drawn to follow.

This particular route to the top of Kurama is serpentine and steep. I frequently lost sight of my quarry, but each time I came close to giving up, I would hear a twig snap beneath sandaled feet, or glimpse a flash of kimono, or a bend in the path would glow, lit up by an ethereal blaze.

I walked for what felt like months, my feet became heavy, the ground treacherous. When the path finally levelled out, I couldn’t see her, but I found myself in the centre of a temple ground. After the cloying tangle of the wooded path up the mountain, the courtyard seemed to sigh with space. A clearing in the trees gave a view of the mountains in the distance, mist rising into the clouds. I was so lost in admiration of the place that the sound of footsteps startled me. I looked, and saw a tall male figure approaching, wearing a simple kimono. His hair was tied in a tight ponytail at the top of his cranium. He carried a katana at his side. Upon reaching me, he bowed deeply, spun round and sat cross-legged, the top of his ponytail just below my chin; only then did I notice that it ended in a microphone.

I was about to say something when a furious wind roared through the trees and deserted temple chambers. I hugged myself and had to secure my footing, so as not to lose balance. The man at my feet wasn’t at all perturbed. I had the sensation of a third presence in the grounds, and thought of the elusive Geisha, when a figure, too broad to have been the woman I followed, appeared at the door of the main building. As soon as I had noticed, he charged towards me, feet not touching the ground, with a pair of colossal wings spread like an unwanted embrace. A bristly white beard trailed behind him like a koi streamer, eyes blazed with fearful vitality, his face was redder than a tomato, his nose at least a foot long. Standing now before me, he was twice my breadth and towered as an adult to a child. I recognised him as a Tengu.

‘You have been here for a year!!’ he bellowed, his voice fierce as a hurricane ‘You heard stories, myths, half truths about this land, which you now know to be false!! You must answer the charges laid against this isle of Gods!!’
Seeing that I was in no position to argue with this enormous fellow, I said into the microphone in the back of the mans head
‘Okay.’ My voice echoed through the seemingly deserted mountainscape, and I wondered if anybody could actually hear what I was saying.
‘First,’ he roared, ‘all Japanese are short!!’
‘I may be big in Japan, but I’ve met a few people much taller then me.’ I replied, looking up at him.
‘Very well!! Japan is one of the most expensive countries in the world!!’
‘Maybe for fruit and veg, but it’s possible to eat out at a very reasonable price.’
‘Indeed!! Ex-Sumo wrestlers are employed to push people into crowded trains!!’
‘Well, there are white gloved guards who do just that, but I’m not sure they’d survive very long in a Sumo match. From what I’ve seen, Sumo is massive over here, and professionals probably have a tidy nest egg by the time they retire, so I can’t see them working for the train companies...unless they got a kick out of it.’
‘Quite!! Japanese men have smaller penises than Westerners!!’
‘I couldn’t possibly comment. My attention in the onsen was directed more at the scenery.’
‘Good!! You can’t get baked potatoes or beans in Japan!!’
‘Well, we don’t have an oven, so we can’t cook potatoes at home, but there are these little vans that trundle about, selling them in colder weather. They play a loop through a loudspeaker, of an old man singing “ishi-yaki-imo”, meaning, “stone cooked potatoes”. They smell great, but I’ve never pinned one down yet. As for beans, even though we’re in the minority, there are enough Westerners in Japan to warrant specialist food shops. I got a tin of Heinz for my birthday.’
‘Absolutely!! In Japan, you can find vending machines selling used schoolgirls panties!!’
‘Um...I’ve done some reading on the subject, but for the sake of continuity, I’ve been saving that for another entry. I hope you understand.’
‘Certainly!!’ roared the Tengu, sounding slightly abashed all the same. 'We mustn’t stand in the way of procedure now, must we?!!’
‘Indeed not’ I said, thinking ‘that wouldn’t be very Japanese.’
‘Finally, Japanese schoolchildren are regimented, disciplined, dedicated learning machines who are nervous, shy and respectful!!’
‘With respect sir,’ I countered, ‘every square inch of my Great British arse.’
‘So, desu ne?!! Little shits!!’ he replied. ‘I am satisfied!! You may go!!’

With that, he beat his mighty wings and flew off into the sunset. When he had disappeared from sight, the man with the microphone in his hair stood up, faced me, bowed again, and walked away, leaving me alone. Slightly bewildered, I leaned against a nearby Tori, only to see the Geisha I had followed. She was still burning with that unnatural flame. She smiled at me, bowed, then turned into a fox. The creature also seemed to be on fire. It disappeared into the trees.

I woke up hungry, finding myself surrounded by neither fish nor rice.