Charles Burchfield, Journals, July 27, 1945

A dream -           

                I am riding on a “crack” stream-lined train running to Chicago (from Pittsburg) – I discover a parrot-like tropical bird on the train, which has something wrong with it, flying along, and trying to alight on the coach in which I am riding.

                I reach out my hand, on which it alights, and I step off the train, and start walking back towards a station train, intending to leave the bird at a local S.P.C.A. A yellow and black spotted cat suddenly appears and runs along behind, clawing at the birds long tail. Each time as I jerked the bird out of its reach and struck at the cat, it would fall back a few paces and then laugh – fiendishly and sardonically. This happened several times. Eventually I reached the train station, and left the bird with the stationmaster.

                I now remembered the train, and thought I must again board it. Far down the track I could see it coming at a tremendous speed, rounding a curve. The (sic) it was some distance away, I could see plainly printed on the locomotive “Chicago Limited” – I felt they would be angry if I signalled (sic) the train out in the country, but thought when I explained about the bird, everything would be all right. I raised my hand, and the train slowed down and I stepped aboard, on the car nearest the locomotive, thinking I would have to walk back to my own coach.

                The car in which I found myself was a wide one, extending out over two or three tracks; it was divided into stalls on each side, in which were cattle and horses, with rich smelling hay in racks above them. I strolled, marvelling (sic), into the next coach. This one was a long one, and divided off into two basketball courts. As I went on towards the next car I awoke.

                Early to “city line” for meat etc.

                The painters finished this morning – they left paint for the studio & garage.

P.M.      Painting under the willow tree, of the view westward including the church. I find I am very “rusty” but the results are not bad at the end. A clear brilliant white July afternoon. 

Charles E. Burchfield, Friday – July 27, 1945