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Depression era depression

I was a small boy, maybe ten years old. I looked down at my hands and noticed how small they were, and that I was dirty, barefoot, and wearing denim overalls. I was with my father (not my waking life father) on a farm, that was terribly dry and poor. He was outside working on something, and told me to go to the next farm over and fetch my mom. I ran for quite some time, until I reached another poor farmhouse. The man there apologized to me, and told me there had been an accident, and my mother was dead. I could find her over by the oak tree in the field.

So I ran to the tree, where my mother was lying on the ground dead. I sat her up to hold her and cry, but she began to speak to me. I looked in her face, and she was young and beautiful. But not my mother in waking life. She began to say her goodbye's to me, telling me to be a good boy and take care of my father. As she spoke, her face began to rot, and she disintegrated in my arms.

I ran back home to tell my father, but he didn't seem to care much. He just grunted that I should go let the dog out of the shed. I went to the shed and opened the door. Inside were tools, and horse supplies. There were two candles burning, and it was a little warmer in there. I didn't find the dog, but the shed made me feel really uneasy, as if something bad happened in there. I tried to ask my father about it. But he told me not to mind anything like that anymore, and I woke up.

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