Charles E. Burchfield, Journals, October 8, 1917

A dream –

Working someplace to the north of here; a channel like depression in the earth with a few woods; a trolley line took us home at night, in my spare time I painted having brought my materials along; one I sketched was the weird setting sun thru the doorway of a deserted house; towards evening when everyone seemed getting ready to go home, I noticed in the hot yellow afterglow; bluebirds clinging to an old board fence; they seemed asleep and I was able to pick them off and put them in my pocket, thunder was heard rumbling; in the gathering gloom I noticed a kite in the sky, then more & more appeared it seemed as if the boys flying them had lost control of them on the strings sagged low over the earth, I was able to gather them all together in my hand. The kites were falling, I gave the string a jerk and stepped back a few paces; they spring up in the air again radiating from my hand; I was considering whether to tie all the strings together for a joke when the six o’clock car whistled. It seemed as if my duty was to see that all left the place on time, and that I myself, the last to leave had to catch the car in the rain. Then I remembered that I had left my sketching material on the ground somewhere. The sketches I had removed from the portfolio and laid in some swampgrass, the portfolio in some bushes. On finding the latter it was submerged in water a few inches; anxious, I sought the sketches only to find them entirely covered with water. I lifted them carefully out; the one of the sunset had been soaked and the paint partly transfigured & the back of another. By this time of course the car was gone & I had the prospects of waiting an hour; But now I saw that a young man from town had his car with him. Tho I had never asked him, still I asked him to take me home with him. He consented but was waiting for his mother-in-law to come. The dream broke off here –

Charles E. Burchfield, Journals, October 8, 1917