Charles E. Burchfield, Journals, June 29, 1929

I had a dream last night and got a [glimpse] of that strange world that seems partly a memory of childhood impressions, and partly something that I never have experienced. I have had many such [dreams] lately; there is a glamour about them that makes them seem much more desirable than real life, an agonizing feeling that they represent a world that I can never hope to find.

I was walking along a street – one that is at the edge of a town and changes suddenly as it goes downhill into a country road. A small short-haired yellow dog comes out to snap at my heels; its master, a boy of six playing in the yard. I time my kick perfectly and send the yelping dog out into the street; the boy screams. I stride on unheeding. I suddenly feel the presence at my back of the father who is rushing after me, I turn and with all my strength hit him with my fist in the face – he falls into a ravine along the road.

I am walking along a street in Salem – which is yet not Salem. We have company at my home and I must sleep at the home [of] the Hestons, who live in Buffalo. I make a short cut from one street to another that I used to make 20 years ago. There is a monumental works there (none in reality).

It is the next morning – I can see that my presence in the Heston home is resented. I am made to feel that I am a social inferior. This is done not by positive insults, but by a completely cold ignoring of my presence. I go to a bathroom to wash up – another guest rudely orders me away.

I go outside – their home is one of many set close together on Blind Street, an exclusive court with elm trees. I enter a house a few doors away, intending to find a bathroom – the chief maid discovers me & treats me like a thief. I make the plea that I am looking [for] a [brush], and that I am a bona fide guest of the Heston’s. I retreat to the latter’s home. The maid pursues me, and comes in to report my prowling to the mistress. She is a fat old lady, who seems to be the social leader of the court. She holds a finger bowl full of water, and the maid must put her mouth under the water while she talks – this to purify her faith so that the superior beings around her may not be contaminated. The old lady signs her away & says she will question me. She starts to ask questions, and pretends that a doll that she holds is asking the question – after each one she says “Thus the dolly”. I perceive she is quite mad, and retreat outside again, and go down the end of the court, with the idea of escaping. The end is barred by a high embankment, beyond and above which I can see a freight station locomotive & men load stone, in late afternoon sunlight. The sight of the familiar common world fills me with sadness and a great longing comes over me to get out of my  predicament & reach that world – I turn back to try the other end & find the street full of men women & children, who have put on white starched cuffs & leggings & are walking sedately & soundlessly up & down with expressionless faces.

Charles E. Burchfield, June 29, 1929