A Problematic aspect of the American Dream and appropriations thereof, is that it is a fluid concept and means different things to different people

Oh God…I feel as if the weight of the world is upon my shoulders. What a burden I have…no what a burden we have. We have nothing, no money, no food, no shelter, no future…What is going to happen to me and my family? I’m just about to leave Weedpatch, some Government camp. I suppose the name spells it out, weed…patch. I’m guessing it’s called that way because apparently we’re patches of weeds, pests that must be killed. I feel so depressed, yet so angry. So helpless, yet so enraged. Everything me and my family ever dreamed of, all gone within a blink of an eye. How did it all come to this? The fact that everyone has conflicting aspirations is tearing this family apart. I wish I could go back to the good old days. I talk about it with the other farmers, real men who know the meaning of suffering and the countless number of times the dream’s been denied right before our eyes.

The dreaming land is what I called it, a place full of peace and prosperity before this disaster unfolded. I had a generous piece of land, not terribly oversized, but a land that I could show off, get food, get a family, flourish, and hold my head up high with dignity. My Grandpa fought hard against those Injuns for that land, for the dream. He raised me and Grandma on it. I took over it and married Ma, and before you know it, we had kids. They don’t deserve to grow up in a world like this.

The worse thing was that corporate bank of a monster, an indescribable incarnation, an unstoppable, unrelentless, unforgiving beast. Bulldozing me and everyone else’s hopes and dreams from the past, present and future. Sure we had some bills and some bad crops, but nothing serious enough for some bulldozer to plough down the dream I’ve built! If there’s one lesson I’ve learnt it’s that nature’s got a limit, it may burn, freeze and drought the dream, but it’ll repay with rain, sun and life. Man on the other hand, seeks only to profit through the suffering of others. To those monsters, the American Dream is merely an obsession with money and success. I’ve seen a one million acre farm owned by one man, one man? He’s got guards just waiting to shoot any unlucky fella who happens to walk on it, that’s nothing to be proud of. What sort of a dream is that? Taking advantage of us hardworking farmers. The land is our world; we’ve shed blood and tears for it. It’s not some numbers on a page filed in some office. Those short-sighted bastards will never understand, never…