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Postcard Dreams
From Another Place
It wasn’t always this way. At one time Helmut Snyder actually looked forward to summer. This meant he’d be doing all sorts of extracurricular outdoor activities, which implied he’d somehow take his mind off the lack of motivation he had for his job. Theoretically my means of gainful employment relates to the career aspirations I’ve got for myself, right? My occupation on the other hand, is the exact opposite of that. Not that uncommon for me to wake up most mornings with my usual fatalistic outlook. Then when I get to work I end up counting the seconds till I’m headed home and can forget this place.
Who’s the writer that said the majority of men lead lives of quiet desperation? If that’s the case then I’m in trouble. Quiet desperation in my situation must mean I’m being forced to face harsh reality every morning when I wake up. Yeah that’s it.
Never been very good at confronting painful realities. This ones the roughest too.
Helmut spent the waking hours working as a marketing go-between for a small clothing distributor/manufacturer in Winter Harbor, Maine. Just across the bay from Mt. Desert Island, and the summer madness that is Acadia National Park. Arranging sales for a wide assortment of vacation related paraphernalia New England Novelties had been marketing to Bostonians and other tourists. He’d been working in his position as a marketing consultant for the past fifteen years, and lately it had begun to feel like his feet were deeply embedded in fast drying cement. Pretty much felt that way too.
Maybe that’s what it was like for Jimmy Hoffa right before he disappeared from the scene? Authorities never did locate the guy after he vanished? Could be he perished in another way? Maybe ended up being cut into a thousand little pieces and buried in the south end zone of Giant’s Stadium. Well I’m not going to lose any sleep over the matter of his disappearance. Quite possibly I should?
New England Novelties was going through some seismic shifts of its own at the present moment. The company was in the process
of out-sourcing most of its manufacturing to the Far East. Something it should’ve done over ten years ago but didn’t largely because of its founder. One Stephen Proctor. A direct descendent of colonists that stepped off the boat at Plymouth Rock. In certain ways still living in that time period too.
Stephen was a Korean vet. and violently resisted the manufacturing shift mania that had been shaking the tourist souvenir industry for the past twenty years. Some said his resistance was a bit of racial segregationist philosophy on his part showing through, but most claimed it was just plain cranky-old-man obstinate behavior. Probably a little bit of both.
Helmut’s New England Novelties colleague and good friend was Grover Ordway. Ten years his junior and currently scouting out locations for NEN to move its manufacturing to a third world site more conducive to increasing profits. He’d been on his Far Eastern junket for almost two weeks now, and all of a sudden Helmut found himself rushing to the NEN mailroom every day. Ostensibly to check and see if there was a new postcard from Grover. Ordway told the staff at NEN that he’d send them a series of picture mementos from his journeys, and you could always count on Grover to be faithful to his word. August 15, 2014 didn’t result in a postcard though.
_______________
Right after Helmut had experienced another in his continuing daily disappointments, he discussed this latest disillusionment with another NEN colleague, Mildred Crabapple. Their conversation was in somewhat gory detail. This allowed both to take their minds off the job’s non-excruciatingly exciting day. Another chance to visualize themselves being somewhere else.
“Well the Soxs snatched defeat from the gaping jaws of victory again last night,” said Mildred, who lived for the exploits of her favorite Bostonian athletic team. “We didn’t get anything from Grover either. Another riveting day at the salt mines.”
“Boy oh boy,” said Helmut. “What time is it? Can hardly wait till 4:30 rolls around. No postcard so no vivid dreams tonight.”
“Uhh? What’s that mean?”
“Whenever Grover sends us a postcard from his pit stops I have these amazing dreams about visiting the locale.”
“Really? How so?”
“Last week we got two pictures from his travels.”
“The first one was from the Philippines. Palm lined beach, pink sand, place looked nice.”
“That very night I had this great dream about riding in the passenger seat of a motorized rickshaw going from Manila to the beach. Ended up lounging underneath a huge mango tree eating this sweet rice flour dessert called Bibinka. Drinking cocoanut juice out of a gord. Then when I woke up there’s a can of the stuff in my refrigerator. I don’t even recall buying it the day before. Stranger than a cryptic text message.”
“You probably did, just don’t remember purchasing it. I’m jealous. You were happy as you waltzed down the grocery aisles because you’d successfully managed to survive another day at the Fun factory.”
Helmut laughed. “Then three days later we got that postcard from Indonesia. The dream that night wasn’t as fantastic, but still just as good. I was eating Madura style chicken and Satays in this heavenly peanut sauce while being driven through the streets of Jakarta in a limousine.”
“Eating and being driven around. Freud would say that means you’re secretly wishing your mother was still around to feed and chauffer you from point A to point B. I thought you said your mom spending more than five minutes in a year slaving over a hot stove was an occasion for celebration?”
“Usually. She wasn’t a traditional maternal type. Kind of a free thinker before they were burning bras.”
“Hum,” said Mildred. “The plot thins.”
“That’s what’s so strange about the dreams. The morning after the Philippine island dream I also noticed this poster of Manila Bay in my bathroom. Same as the cocoanut juice in my refrigerator, I have no idea where it came from or how it got there. I’ve never even been to any of those islands in the Philippines.”
“Never? The poster still there in your bathroom?”
“Yes, I like all the colors and the water in that bay. Looks very inviting. Although some friend of mine who traveled there says it looks more like an open sewer because of all the garbage ships.”
“How pleasant. Remind me never to visit the place.”
“It isn’t at the top of my bucket list of destinations either.”
“So where’s Grover supposed to send a postcard from this coming week?”
“I’m hoping his itinerary says next stop China. That ought to be a good nighttime fantasy. “
“Sounds like they’ll persist too. Nice how you don’t even have to ingest drugs to induce the dreams.”
______________
Which is exactly what happened. The following week a postcard from the Chinese provincial city of Nanchang found itself buried under a stack of utility bills, catalogues, and assorted junk mail. Items’ helping to maintain the U.S. Postal system’s continued existence.
Helmut did a Goggle search. Nanchang is the provincial capitol of Jiang province in southeast China. Among other things notable for being a major railroad hub in the southern part of the country. Poyang lake-the largest body of freshwater in China sits there, and it also has the world’s largest Ferris wheel. A nighttime shot complete with Christmas lights decorating the
structure is exactly what was pictured on the postcard sent to NEN staff. The picture memento didn’t make it look intimidating, rather festive instead.
This did the trick, as that night Helmut had a vivid dream whereby he found himself riding the Ferris wheel. Being a dream, the wheel was totally unattached to any sort of pivot pin and floating gracefully over the city on a starlit night. Once again the dream had him eating while twirling through space. Only this time it was a Szechwan Chinese dinner with Helmut dishing out huge portions from a chili hot pot and more Kung Pao Chicken and Tea Smoked Duck than your average glutton should be allowed to consume. Ironically, not a morsel of the food ended up being dropped as he sat back and enjoyed the ride.
The next morning Helmut knew it was a dream since he ate his banquet with a set of chop sticks. In the harsh grey tinged real world, he didn’t even know how to use implements of this sort for purposes of consuming organic nourishment. Ferris wheels generally don’t float unattached through space either, unless their riders happen to have ingested a powerful ecstasy drug prior to entering the dream.
Seems like all morning long I’ve been trying to track Mildred down to tell her about the dream. All this while pretending to actually do some work. Pulling it off though. Insisting to the boss that I previously consulted with her about a new T-shirt marketing scheme. Good thing this guy is new to the place. If he knew Mildred is actually a safety director he’d probably wonder why the Hell I was talking to her about marketing T-shirts.
“So did you have an oriental fantasy last night?” asked Helmut’s colleague.
“Sure did. This one was pretty good too.”
Mildred perked up from her usual NEN comatose zombie worker mode. “Do tell.”
“It’s almost like I knew when I was getting ready for bed that I’d have a dream about being in China. Only question was, how much would it involve the Ferris wheel on the front of that postcard we got yesterday?”
“And did it?”
“Definitely and it was so cool,” said a visibly excited Helmut. “I was sitting in that exact same Ferris wheel, only it
was floating through space totally unattached to anything over that same city in China. It was at night and I could see all over the place.”
“Stars and all?”
“Yup.”
“Strange. That shop owner from Desert Island who was visiting us yesterday said he’s been to that Nanwang place, or whatever its called, and the air pollution makes L.A. look like a wilderness zone.”
Helmut walked to the other end of the employee lounge to make sure the boss wasn’t spying on them. “Not in my dream. It felt like I was in an episode of Fantasy Island.”
“I remember that show. “The plane boss, the plane.”
“Only it was a Ferris wheel in the dream. The banquet that kept appearing out of nowhere was pretty good too.”
“Got to have food of course.”
“I can’t wait to see where the newest postcard is from. Grover said he goes to Cambodia next doesn’t he?”
“That ought to be a good one. Your dream that is.”
________________
It was too. The postcard NEN received had a picture of the ancient city of Angor Wat, a side trip Grover was able to make during a business appointment at a factory in Phomn Pen. The manager was very enthusiastic about taking on all the production for NEN’s line of items. This included all their T-shirt designs, key chains, refrigerator magnets, and other dust collecting commodities as Mildred referred to them.
Because of this increased interest from the factory manager, Grover’s stay in Cambodia was extended for an additional five days. Oddly enough, this also affected the dreams Helmut had during the next week. Instead of just one Cambodian dream, he ended up experiencing two journeys of the mind. Dipping his feet squarely into the Twilight Zone? Only in this case it was more like stumbling headlong into the bizarre food section of the zone.
Dream #1 involved being carried about in a gold and ruby encrusted, pillowed carriage by tunic wearing manservants for an extended ruins tour. Helmut was of course eating a big bowl of some sort of noodle dish with extra large shrimp and prawns
in it, deep-fried vegetable samosas, and a cup of hot Chai on the side. The food alone in this first Cambodian dream was worth it. He secretly thanked Grover for sending them a postcard the next morning.
Dream #2 happened four days later and involved being carried around in that self-same ruby-encrusted carriage from dream #1. This time Helmut was visiting Buddhist temples throughout Cambodia and eating another bowl of noodles. Only they were in this heavenly coconut sauce that tasted so good Helmut could almost sense the confection in his dream. He woke up to discover the pillowcase totally soaked in drool.
The dream ended abruptly as Helmut realized he had to empty his bladder. Even though he thought about Cambodia in an attempt to get back into the dream while trying to fall asleep again, he couldn’t. Helmut cursed this turn of events. Then again these things tend to happen when you go out with your colleagues after work to consume massive amounts of hop-fermented beverages.
Grover’s next destination was a clothing factory just outside Ho Chi Min City in Vietnam. Once again the postcard the following week resulted in another successful dream. Helmut
found himself riding a bicycle through the ancient feudal city of Hue on a sunny, and unusually cool day. He stopped for a picnic lunch of Banh Xeo. Crepes made with rice flour & turmeric, filled with shrimp, pork & sliced onions. Then cooked in coconut oil. His picnic entrée miraculously appearing out of nowhere. Sort of like the dream itself.
_______________
Grover had been gone for almost a month and he only had one last stop to make on his business trip. A Journey to India and a factory in Mumbai. Over the phone the manager had said they’d meet or beat the production costs of any other proposal he’d been offered. Sounded promising and Grover looked forward to his visit when he stepped off the plane.
In addition to being the commercial capital of India and the fourth largest city in the world, Mumbai also happened to be the entertainment capital of India. Therefore the epicenter of everything Bollywood had to offer in the world of theatrical performance. Naturally this effected Helmut’s dream the night after they got the postcard from central Asia.
The dream was a variation on his previous nocturnal fantasies in that Helmut found himself acting in a Bollywood spectacle. All the other actors were dressed to the nines, including Helmut who wore a multi-colored, satin robe and a feathered turban. They performed a choreographed dance number with lots of tumbling and other yoga-like contortions.
This ended with the assembled actors sitting down to a feast which included spring onions & coriander appetizers, sweet coconut prawns, chili marinated sea bass, and giant butter garlic crabs as entrées. All of it washed down with a pint of Kingfisher Beer. An elaborate dessert of Alphonso Mangoes and Custard Apple ice cream topped off the dream feast. Once again the food spectacle in his dream was another outstanding example of cultural diversity at its finest. Helmut of course had a ravenous appetite upon waking up the next morning.
He also started wishing Grover would just keep traveling and sending them picture posts from all his journeys. Then during the winter months, he’ll make travel junkets in the southern hemisphere where its summer in January and send us all
sorts of pictures from that part of the planet. Wouldn’t that be sweeter than free cocaine at a Hollywood party?
Speaking of summer, it’s definitely in the waning phase around here and fall is about to kick in big time. Except for another outstanding New England color display to look forward to, all the people who don’t participate in winter sporting activities seem to be shifting their emotions into total depression phase. That includes Mildred and me. Particularly Mildred who keeps telling me the Soxs have embarked upon another historic late season collapse.
_______________
Three days later, things at the NEN headquarters improved somewhat when Grover came back to work. He looked happy and the trip must’ve done him some good since he walked in the front door smiling and full of good memories. One of things he needed to discuss was an urgent matter involving Helmut. In private no less, without the prying eyes of management zeroing in on them while they hashed out the matter.
A dark, dingy, drinking establishment in Winter Harbor:
“What’s so urgent that you need to talk to me outside of work about it?” asked Helmut as he settled in. “Must be important, not that regular NEN matters aren’t crucial. Then again since you and I are both worker bees, they usually aren’t.”
“This one is,” said Grover.
“Oh really.”
“Except for getting stuck in the middle of monsoon season in the Far East which had me getting soaked every day, it was a pretty good trip. Particularly the proposal I’m about to ask you. If you’re interested.”
“What’s that?”
“The guy who’s the manager at that factory in India wants to hire me out from underneath NEN to become their go-between with their plant in Mumbai and clients in the states.”
“You should do it,” said Helmut. “We’ll miss you, but it’s an opportunity to travel. You told me yourself you’ve always been into that sort of thing. So am I by the way. You don’t mind eating airline food, which I’ll always wonder about.”
“Me too sometimes.”
“So why does this concern me?”
“That manager also wants to hire another marketing go-between to work with me. In fact, he wants to hire an entire team to market their products all over the states. Interested?”
Helmut didn’t know quite how to react. Granted I have spent a bit of time living as an ex-pat back in my twenties. Actually liked it quite a bit. The prospect of living overseas and working in India sounds appealing. That country fascinates me. Can’t wait to take advantage of all the culinary options if I take this job. My taste buds are already getting psyched.
What seems to be causing this hesitancy to kick in is the fact that this could be a big change. Most people aren’t too conducive to the prospect of huge alterations in their lives. Using the same toilet every day is comforting for no apparent reason.
Being recently divorced I don’t have that noose around my neck. Spending the rest of my working life stuck in Winter Harbor doesn’t sound like the most exciting way to fade into obscurity. “What the hey, I’m interested.”
“I know how much Mildred likes to complain,” said Grover. “This company CEO, Deepal Sultan, is looking for quite a few folks. Think she’d be interested in joining us?”
“Probably not. For all the bitching and moaning she does, Mildred probably wouldn’t seriously consider leaving this place. Besides she’s a safety director, and all her family is in New England. That includes four kids, a husband, and her mother.”
“True. I thought about that during the plane flight back over the pole.”
“How are those uncomfortably long trans-continental flights by the way?” A definite drawback to taking the job I suppose.
“You get used to them. Other than playing havoc with your internal clock, I’ve adjusted. Deepal wants to cut down on expenses too. He proposed that his marketing team would spend three to four months out of every year traveling around the states to meet with potential clients. Then fly back to Mumbai once contracts are signed.”
A definite plus. “Getting back to the Mildred subject, in addition to all her family being in New England, she lives and dies for the Red Soxs as you know. Imagine what her life would be like if she was in another part of the globe and couldn’t wake up every morning to complain about their latest loss. Her bitchfests just wouldn’t be the same.”
“I thought about that too when contemplating whether to ask if she’ll join us. I won’t even invite her to jump ship,”
“Your intuition is right on that one.”
“So then it’s settled. Got any ideas about how we should break the news about this to management?”
Helmut looked off in the distance like a contemplative drunk. “It won’t be that hard. We just got a new boss so us jumping ship won’t really matter. Maybe for Mildred since she’ll be losing two people who regularly listen to her rants.”
“Think you’ll miss this place?”
“A little bit. Sometimes it seems like I’ve been here since the day before Paul Revere did his midnight ride.”
Grover couldn’t help chuckling about that. Partially because he knew it wouldn’t happen to him. “True. How long you been here?”
“Too long. Maybe you can do a trip to New England once or twice a year. Do it in Northern Hemisphere summer.”
“Definite possibility since Sultan’s Souvenirs will be selling products to tourist shops on this side of the globe. Got to ensure they get here in one piece.”
“Send me a postcard. That way my taste buds will appreciate the dreams about New England I have that night.”