In 50 years...

50 years from now i wake up. I realise that I'm an a unfamiliar place, and as I look around it seems as though its a dream, that I've just been sleeping. But that's not possible because as I look in the mirror I don't recognize the old face and aged skin I see. As I begin moving through what I assume is now my home, I feel a cool breeze blowing in from and open slider. As I move closer the smell of salt and a cool ocean breeze fills my lungs with every breath I take. As I step outside, its hot. I begin making my way across the scorching sand to the waters edge, where a man waits underneath an umbrella. When he looks up at me, he doesn't say anything, he just smiles. I think I know him, he seems so familiar. But yet I don't recognize him. He hands me a glass of lemonade and motions me to sit down next to him. As we begin talking I start to realise I've been married to this man for most of my life. We seem to be so in love how can I not remember him? I begin to gaze off across the ocean trying to remember. Remember anything from my past. Then it hit me, the last thing I remember was being 17. Where has the time gone? I was young, ambitious, and indestructible but in a blink of an eye... 50 years later.

1984 Quote

My quote is found on page 72. This was when Winston was copying stuff into his diary from a textbook he borrowed from the Parsons.
"In the old days [in ran], before the glorious Revolution, London was not the beautiful city tat we know today. It was a dark, dirty, miserable place where hardly anybody had enough to eat and where hundreds and thousands of poor people had no boots on their feet and not even a roof to sleep under."
This really stood out to me, I really had to think. What if our history books are false? How do we know that everything we've been told to be true is true?