Charles E. Burchfield's Dreams, Journals, November 20, 1945

Dream –

In a deserted farmhouse in Southern Wyoming (N.Y.) country, a criminal of sort comes into the house intent upon killing me; but while he is crouching at a doorway waiting for me, I sneak up on him and hit him over the head with an axe, killing him. I have no regret over what I have done, since it was done in self-defense, but I realize that if I can escape from the place without leaving any trace, I will be saved a lot of trouble. I conceal him in a closet, and after carefully cleaning up after me, I prepare to leave, going up a flight of ancient stone steps leading down into the cellar. A tangle of dried burdock stalks is not enough to hide me from a deputy sheriff who suddenly makes his appearance. Realizing it is useless to try to get away, and feeling sure he will sooner or later find the body of the slain gangster, I tell him what has happened. He seems inclined to believe my story, but says that he must place me under arrest until an investigation can be made. At this point, I said to myself, this simply can’t be a dream, I am surely awake.

In his car to a village. To the home of the sheriff. In the kitchen, there are other prisoners there and the wife of the sheriff is just serving supper. They all seem cordial; worried about my car which had been parked along the road, I asked permission (with the deputy accompanying me) to bring it to the jail. This is refused. I then ask him to telephone my wife, and tell her what had happened.  He goes out, and after a bit returns, saying that all the lines in that direction are down. While I was wondering what to do, I awoke.

Charles E. Burchfield, November 20, 1945