1984

           Hecouldnotrememberwhathadhappened,butheknewinhisdreamthatinsomewaythelivesofhismotherandhissisterhadbeensacrificedtohisown. Itwasoneofthosedreamswhich,whileretainingthecharacteristicdreamscenery,areacontinuationofone’sintellectuallife, andinwhichonebecomesawareoffactsandideaswhichstillseemnewandvaluableafteroneisawake. ThethingthatnowsuddenlystruckWinstonwasthathismother’sdeath,nearlythirtyyearsago,hadbeentragicandsorrowfulinawaythatwasnolongerpossible. Tragedy,heperceived,belongedtotheancienttime,toatimewhentherewasstillprivacy,love,andfriendship, andwhenthemembersofafamilystoodbyoneanotherwithoutneedingtoknowthereason. Hismother’smemorytoreathisheartbecauseshehaddiedlovinghim,whenhewastooyoungandselfishtoloveherinreturn, andbecausesomehow,hedidnotrememberhow,shehadsacrificedherselftoaconceptionofloyaltythatwasprivateandunalterable. Suchthings,hesaw,couldnothappentoday. Todaytherewerefear,hatred,andpain,butnodignityofemotion,nodeeporcomplexsorrows. Allthisheseemedtoseeinthelargeeyesofhismotherandhissister,lookingupathimthroughthegreenwater,hundredsoffathomsdownandstillsinking. 

           Suddenlyhewasstandingonshortspringyturf,onasummereveningwhentheslantingraysofthesungildedtheground. Thelandscapethathewaslookingatrecurredsoofteninhisdreamsthathewasneverfullycertainwhetherornothehadseenitintherealworld. InhiswakingthoughtshecalledittheGoldenCountry. Itwasanold,rabbit-bittenpasture,withafoot-trackwanderingacrossitandamolehillhereandthere. Intheraggedhedgeontheoppositesideofthefieldtheboughsoftheelmtreeswereswayingveryfaintlyinthebreeze,theirleavesjuststirringindensemasseslikewomen’shair.