Toxic thought

Recklessly dreaming

Have you ever been in a nightmare that you just couldn't get out of?
Like, if you put on a ring and you couldn't get it off. Or a game that you can't stop playing.
That's what I was in for what seemed like hours.
You would expect for a dream to seem like five minutes in the dream world. This was different. Like a time bomb that just keeps on ticking. "Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick....."
All I know is that whoever set it, definitely didn't know what they were doing or just really liked the sound of a ticking bomb but not so much the big "KABOOM!!!" At the end.
In my defense I love nightmares. They bring joy to me in weird ways that I can't explain. But this one was definitely one that would scare me.
You could probably guess by now what it was about: my mom. The light brown toned, brown haired beauty that's always in my mind was now making her way back to my nightmares and finding her way out of my dreams.
This one involved her talking to me before she dies, I go in her room to find her holding a gun to her head, shaking. I looked about four or five, meaning that I didn't know what was going on. I sat on her bed right beside her and she looked at me with devilish eyes. She turned around so she wouldn't face me and pulled the trigger. Her head guts were now splatted all over me and the bed. Blood was in my eyes and mouth. If nothing else I knew what she had done then. I grabbed as much of her from off me and the floor. I put it in a pile and went downstairs to find a phone. By this time neighbors were running to our house asking if we were ok. They knocked down the door only to see me with gallons of blood on my hands.
"Baby, what's happened?" Mrs. Boloid said with a gasp. "And what is this on your hands?"
"Mom-"
"Is your mother home?" Another one said.
"Sh-"
"Sweat heart, we need you so answer us, what happened, baby?"
"Mommy had something in her hand and then she..... went to sleep or something. She won't wake up so we could go play and I tried to clean up all the cool aid she waisted..." I said. There was pure silence until Mrs. boloid asked where she was. I pointed upstairs and they rushed inside. One of my moms other close neighbors called the police and took me outside to her car. And I sat. I waited. I didn't cry. I never once cried. I never did cry about her death. It was always just kind of shocking that I wasn't going to be able to be with her anymore.
And the nightmare wasn't much of one. More like a flashback. A memory. A reality.