Diana At the Crossroad: Dreams and Reflections

When I was a kid, I used to have this recurring dream where I was all alone in the middle of a vast field with tall grass that nearly came up to my shoulders. It was never lonely though. On the contrary, it was freeing and peaceful. In the dream, I would run through the field with my arms stretched out like an airplane. The bottoms of my arms and my hands would graze the soft tips of the golden grass. Then I would lay down in the tall grass with my hands behind my head, where no one could see me, even if there was someone in the field with me. Sometimes there was a tree that I would be under, but usually not. Just me and the breeze and the tall sweet smelling grass.

I used to love having this dream, partially because it was so peaceful, and partially because I was so curious about the idea that I could have the same dream more than once. I had it many, many times, rarely ever changing. Only once was there ever anybody who came with me in the dream: a boyfriend from the time. It was my secret place and it was mine alone. As I got older, I had the dream less and less often, and now, I admit, it has been a few years since I’ve had the dream. However, I have always been on the lookout for real places that look like my dream. Any time I saw a wheat field or corn field in America, I would be reminded of my secret dream place.

Maybe you can tell where I’m going with this.

Rice fields.

I can’t help but notice a correlation between my dream and where I am now, in more ways than just the obvious appearances. The rice fields, right before harvest time, are that perfect color of green and gold (GO POST hahaha) The stalks stretch to just the perfect height. And in certain special places, that is all you can see for miles. Even the tree thing holds true. Despite my province’s name literally meaning “forest,” there are very few trees around. So sometimes you’ll see a tree. Usually not.

The rice fields have also become a place of solace and comfort for me. When I need a break and I need some fresh air, that’s where I go. When I first got to site, I used to go there every day. Now I go a lot less often. Unfortunately this is mostly because the fields have been harvested already, and there are more mud squares than rice fields now. But come rainy season, I know I’ll be back quite a lot.

There is a road that stretches through the middle of the field. It’s a big dirt road, and does get some traffic, but not nearly enough to make you feel congested like in the rest of town. Different from my dream, I do not actually run through the grass, because that would be a very muddy experience and I would probably come away with leeches. But still, the similarities are more than the differences.

While on that road, I would say that 90% of the time, I am completely alone, and I can’t see another soul in site. And once again, I am reminded of the difference between being alone and being lonely. Loneliness is not what happens when I’m out there breathing it all in and reflecting. Loneliness is what happens when loved ones stop reaching out to you. Or when I try to reach out and no one receives it. Loneliness is waiting for others to be lonely enough to remember you. That happens while staring at a blank computer screen, a still cell phone, and an inactive facebook page, never out in the rice fields.

Loneliness aside, Peace Corps is a very “alone” experience. It is also obviously a community experience. But at some point during it all, you’re going to have the time and the space to unload everything that you are, and reload it back, accepting what you’ve discovered. At least, hopefully you’ll be strong enough to accept it. Me? I unload it in the rice fields. And as I reload it, I like to think a bit of the tranquility of the surroundings rubs off on me, and I’m a better person for it.

I realize that my “secret” place isn’t so secret. Motos and bicycles go by, Heck, farmers work in these fields sometimes. But if we’re being symbolic here, and if the rice fields represent my experience, then that is indeed, my secret place and it is mine alone. Because I know, no matter how much I clue in my family, friends, and even other Peace Corps Volunteers, no one REALLY knows what it’s like to be here.

I don’t think I’m the kind of person who believes in dreams predicting my future. Sure it happened in biblical times, but I hardly think my tall grass dream was a premonition of my Peace Corps experience. Rather, it’s more like a fact taped to my brain encouraging me to appreciate beauty, serenity, and solitude- now, and for the rest of my life.