An occurrence in Sugar Factory

Suddenly he was standing on short springy turf, on a summer evening when the slanting rays of the sun glided the ground. The landscape that he was looking at recurred so often in his dreams that he was never fully certain whether or not he had seen it in the real world. In his walking thoughts he called it the Golden Country. It was an old, rabbit-bitten pasture, with a foot-track wondering across it and a molehill here and there. In the ragged hedge the opposite side of the field the boughs of the elm trees were swaying very faintly in the breeze, their leaves just stirring in dense masses like women’s hair. Somewhere near at hand, though out of sight, there was a clear, slow moving stream where dace were swimming in the pool sunder the willow trees.Quoted from “1984” by George Orwell.