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"Sure," said George. "All kin's a vegetables in the garden, and if we want a little whisky we can sell a few eggs or something, or some milk. We'd jus' live there. We'd belong there. There wouldn't be no more runnin' round the country and gettin' fed by a Jap cook. No, sir, we'd have our own place where we belonged and not sleep in no bunk house." (3.202-203)
George's story about the dream farm is so detailed that it almost sounds like a plan, complete with how they're going to get whisky. So what's the difference between a dream and a plan? Just money? Or something more?
When Candy spoke they both jumped as though they had been caught doing something reprehensible. (3.212)
All George and Lennie are doing is talking about their farm, but they act like they've been stealing candy or, say, looking at Facebook instead of their essay on Of Mice of Men. On the ranch, there's something pitiful about this kind of dream. For Candy to hear them talking is almost as though he's caught them naked and exposed.
They fell into a silence. They looked at one another, amazed. This thing they had never really believed in was coming true. (3.221)
Candy's money might make the dream farm a reality. It looks like maybe money is the difference between a dream and a plan—and we also find out here that even Lennie never really believed in the dream. On some level, he also thought it was just a story.