Charles E. Burchfield, Journals, July 18, 1947

B & I to Dr.—Planning our vacation trip next week—To Buffalo Bank, etc—unbearably hot and moist.

Dream last night— (A situation that reoccurs again & again in my dreams—namely—I am trespassing (almost against my will) in the woods, which the owner, a rawboned farmer, has warned, me to stay out of—he always catches me). I was in the woods, woods very similar to Posts Woods at Salem. I had a horse, and a sort of wagon bed, set low on wooden runners; by an old shed.

I heard the farmer and his sons coming down in the woods—I knew he would be angry at my trespassing again, but seemed powerless to go.

In addition, the horse & sled would look as though I were planning to steal firewood, as a subterfuge, I hastily decided that I would be sketching when he came up—I had difficulty finding a pencil, and then had to sharpen it. By this time he had come up and seen me. As I had foreseen he flew into a rage— “This is the last time” he roared, “I’ll fix fellows like you”—(We were in the shed now)—It seemed as if two other trespassers were in there, and had already been stripped and tied to the wall, preparatory to a whipping—the farmer ordered his sons to do likewise to me—

I pleaded with him to let me go. “I only wanted to make some tree studies”, I said, “That couldn’t possibly hurt your woods”—But to no avail, even tho one of the sons took my part There was a flat-topped stove at one side with two of the lids off, revealing glowing hot coals inside. Seizing a hooked poker, I shouted “All right, let’s end everything” and catching the hook in the stove I overturned it, scattering the red coals over the floor and filling the place with steam & smoke.

My actions seemed to do something to the farmer—white-faced, he whispered hoarsely “Go, go, get out, and never come back”—at this point, I awoke.

 Charles E. Burchfield, Journals, July 18, 1947