A dream last night-
My brother Joe and I were examining a flat-bottomed boat made out of sheet-iron; it was lying in the dry sandy bed of a stream. The boat had holes in one end, and I told him he could easily mend the holes & he could use it for his boy, but he argued that it was too much work; I wouldn’t catch him wasting his time on such things. Against his will, I persuaded him to come with me in search of the owner of the boat. He still argued against the idea, and finally asked me why I didn’t buy it for my children, to which I replied that it would be some job to transport it clear to Buffalo from the state of New Jersey (where it seemed he lived.) We entered a barn on his lot, and climbing up a ladder I saw six children’s cradles, one badly broken [and] the others in need of some repairs.
Leaving the barn I went down a country road. It was June, and nearly noon; a strange unearthly twilight over the sky. I came to where gigantic elms arched over the road; great barns were on either sides of the road. The quality of the shaggy elm branches interlaced overhead (enormous vaults), seemed wonderful to me, as things are to a child. I thought, I must paint this before the season is gone.
Jutting out from the north end of one of the huge barns was an extension roof, extending over part of a large field; it had no supports underneath, and then I noticed that it was held up by iron girders extending from buildings on the other side of the road. Part of this extension roof was greenhouse glass thru which an eerie light came. I wandered out into the field before I noticed that it was composed of small flower beds, in which young plants were growing; I was stepping on fragile young nasturtium vines crushing them. I hastily retreated to the edge of the field. Some distance to the north at the end of the field was a deep woods. A bus pulled up and stopped there, and a crowd of young women got out, all dressed in the styles of 1910 or thereabouts, with baskets on their arms. They were laughing & shouting gaily - and I thought they are going to the woods for wild flowers, and I rejoiced in their innocence. There were others in the field now where I was, some children pulling up the flower plants. I remonstrated with them. The owners of the greenhouse discovered us, and locked the gate (the field was enclosed in uneven fences) and I was trying to discover a way out when I awoke.
Charles E. Burchfield, December 27, 1936