A Certain Field of Dreams

The story of some weary travelers, a real estate agent and an energy vortex

The fields of summer were rich in earthly scents. The sky was big and the ground was moist from recent rain. As the group of nomads walked across a certain field they slowed their pace and took in the incredible beauty of the little valley.

In their seasonal migrations the people had crossed this particular field once before. It was during the previous winter. The field was very different back then. It was frozen and everything was brown and yellow. There were no insects buzzing the air; no knee-high grass and wildflowers flowing in the breeze. The field was in winter then and now the group reveled in the sharp contrast. The field had come to life.

The people decided to stop and rest. They put down the large packs from their backs and placed them on the ground. They unloaded the packs from the backs of the donkeys, letting the donkeys graze and drink from the stream. Several of the group sat down on the ground with their backs to their packs. Others went to the small stream running along the edge of the field and collected water for everyone. The children, despite being exhausted, began playing. The burden of the journey was put on hold.