Mitsaka and the Healing River
Daniel Winkle
Mitsaka’s sister tapped on his forehead waking him from a deep sleep. With exuberant energy she jumped around his bed jabbering and jumping. She urged her brother to awaken.
“Mitsaka!” Oswei yelled as she tapped and jumped. “Wake up! It’s the day of the festival of the Gods! Wake up! Wake up!”
Mitsaka groaned, the festival of the Gods had lost its appeal for him. The Gods were dead to him. Years of unanswered prayers had left Mitsaka faithless and full of doubts. Oswei came near and smacked Mitsaka firmly on the forehead and Mitsaka couldn’t help but notice the orange and blue butterflies on her sundress that leaped in front of his face as he rolled in an attempt to miss her swinging hand.
“Wake Up!” she screamed as she smacked his forehead.
“Ok, ok,” Mitsaka groaned. “I will be ready in a moment.”
“Hurry up!” Oswei exclaimed as she opened the blinds letting sunlight in and left the room.
Mitsaka dressed slowly and met his sister at the front door. The festival parade was only a few blocks from their home. The streets were crowded and there was only one spot left where they could sit. They sat next to an old women with sagging skin but her eyes twinkled with the vigor of teenager. Mitsaka pouted as Oswei jumped excitedly about in anticipation of seeing Shigawa the God of magic in the parade. The old women noticed Mitsaka’s expression and turned to him and spoke.
“Why the long face Mitsaka?” she asked with a feint grin on her face.
“How do you know my name?” Mitsaka replied with a confused and bewildered look.
“Why shouldn’t I know your name?” the old women replied and shrugged. “We are at the festival of the God of magic after all. Shigawa is a good friend of mine”
“Shigawa, the god of magic, a friend of yours?” Mitsaka replied now scowling in annoyance. “You must be mad!”
“Madness is the first step to seeing young man,” the old women said quite seriously without any doubts on her face. “You can try to brush off how I knew your name, but you are long due for a visit from Shigawa. The Gods still speak to some of us. Enjoy the parade!”
Mitsaka felt Oswei tug at his pant leg and glanced away from the old woman as musicians had started down the avenue. He glanced again at Oswei as she continued to tug and then back to the old women. The old women was no where to be found. He gazed around the avenue and the old women appeared to have vanished into thin air. He briefly took note and then he moved on and sat annoyed through the parade as various people dressed in costumes of the old Gods marched down the avenue.
After the parade Mitsaka walked home with Oswei. He pondered how the old woman knew his name. Surely she must have known his parents but he never recalled seeing her before and how did she just disappear?
Questions and thoughts swirled through Mitsaka’s head as he prepared for bed. For the first time in ages he did not fall asleep in utter exhaustion and boredom. What did the old women mean Shigawa would visit him? How could a fake God made by the childish Myths of man visit him? Even though these new doubts disturbed him, he felt more alive than he had for a long time. Mitsaka finally drifted off to sleep still carrying the excitement and mystery of the encounter with him into the dream time.
Becoming aware of himself in dreamtime, Mitsaka sat in the midst of a field of wheat. There was no end to this field. It stretched as far as he could imagine. The wheat grew as he sat and eventually began to grow dry. There was no rain in this dreamscape. After some time after it had grown old, the grain spontaneously had caught on fire. He ignored the fire at first, but soon, the fire raged around Mitsaka and he was unable to move. He was surrounded. Sweat flowed from every pore, desperate, he called out for help.
Mitsaka noticed the fire began to dissipate and none too soon because his skin was beginning to scald. He noticed In the distant edge of the burning flames a figure in black robes carried a scythe. It was cutting down the old, dry wheat. This figure could walk right through the fire without harm and as he cut there was no more fuel for the flames. Mitsaka noticed as the figure approached that there was nothing but moving bones underneath the robes, a skeleton. When the flames and dead wheat were gone the figure approached and Mitsaka was now frozen with fear.
The black robed figure laughed at Mitsaka’s fear and his form began to dissolve. The black robe dropped to the ground revealing the traditional form of Shigawa, the God of magic.
“I believe you were expecting me,” Shigawa spoke with a grin.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Mitsaka retorted in disbelief. “You aren’t real”
“You might want to begin to question exactly what does ‘real’ mean after the events of today,” Shigawa replied maintaining his grin. “Far too long have you forgotten me and you have begun to dry up like the wheat I cut to save you.”
“If you are so real then prove it!” Mitsaka screamed seething in anger.
“If I must,” Shigawa replied and proceeded to snap his fingers. Shigawa suddenly transformed into a crow and flew high above the scene. The earth under Misaka became moist and transformed into a muddy bog. Mitsaka was stuck. Completely unable to move.
“You are stuck Mitsaka,” Shigawa as the crow spoke. “You are now in the midst of the River of Healing but the waters no longer flow. If you are to restore knowledge to you and your people you must restore the flow. This is all I can show you now.”
Mitsaka awoke from the dream. His body was dripping wet and sat in a puddle of sweat. He was paralyzed. His legs unable to move. The events of the dream imprinted upon his body felt so real that he could hardly deny their impact. His body no longer felt disconnected from the realities of night time dreams, they felt interlaced, inseparable. He felt the psychological imprint of the dream in his muscles, his bones, his heart, his brain, and through every inch of his body and being. For the first time he could feel his stuckness that Shigawa spoke of.
From that day on Mitsaka could not forget the connection between his body, his mind, and the dream time. This connection melted the stone face of fear on Mitsaka’s face into one of warmth and smiles. Shigawa visited him often in his dreams and eventually Mitsaka would see him while he was awake in the fluttering of the butterflies wings, he could smell Shigawa in the wonderful smell of baking bread, or feel Shigawa’s embrace in the throngs of passion. At first Mitsaka thought there was a specific quest he must undertake to restore the flow to the river of healing, but eventually he realized that by simply noticing and acknowledging his connection to Shigawa, the magical unknown realm of myth could move the boulders and dams that blocked it’s flow for him and Mitsaka remained unstuck and the river of healing flowed free for the rest of his days.