seven fields

I was having breakfast with two friends, sitting on a wide wooden balcony that overlooked green fields leading up to dwarfish mountains, not too far in the distance. There were four young people sitting at another table: our new neighbours. After a time, I said hello and welcomed them. They were rather reserved, which I understood, probably adjusting to the different surroundings. I excused myself and went back to the bedroom dormitories, feeling that I needed to get on with the day as I had so much to do. We each had beds in different parts of the huge room; there were probably about forty beds in all. I found mine and opened my suitcase to dress appropriately for the hard work ahead - I had to single-handedly plant seven fields of corn or wheat and I was supposed to finish within three days. Before dressing, I spoke with a small boy who had come into the room, looking for something to do. I gave him a dvd and said he could watch it, if he would just return it to my bed upon finishing. I also had a moment with an older man with grey hair: rather than speaking with him, I sang to him, asking him rhetorical questions about his life as a man and about love. The young group of four came back into the dormitories to get dressed; their presence reminded me of the big task ahead and I went back to my suitcase to dress. I tried on an array of clothing, from high heeled sandals, a white lacy bra and boxer shorts, to more suitable clothing. I eventually found long cool pants, socks and sneakers, a bikini top and a long-sleeved top to wear over it, to protect me from the sun. Everything was white or white with a coloured pattern. Once dressed, I looked out the window, wondering how in the world I was going to manage to plant seven fields of corn or wheat by myself. I could see the ready fields and the sun, now higher in the sky. I was not sure where the seed was that I was supposed to plant and I was not certain of the method to use. Should I dig shallow trenches in lines, scatter the seed whilst walking the lines, and then cover the seed? Or did I need to press each seed into the soil? Daunted, I walked out of the dormitory through a common room where two young men and an older woman were making a business deal. She wanted something proofread and they were sorting out the fee for service. The men were wearing blue t-shirts with words such as 'proofreading' and related terms written across their chests in dark blue sparkly writing. I knew that I too would be capable of doing the job but that I had far too much work to do right now. Then, in a flash, I realised that it was not seven fields of corn or wheat that I had to single-handedly plant in three days, it was seven chapters of a textbook that I had to proofread. I was greatly relieved and woke up.