A triangle shape

Non Lucid. I am afraid of telling anyone the details of this dream because people might think I am going psycho. It is "not normal" for a teenage girl to have such dreams. This I had Sunday night, school's the next day. I have been drawing people mutilating themselves in various ways. Normally I do not draw such things, but right now I am in a bit of a depression. I need some kind of relief. This is one of the dreams I have where I am not in my own body. I do not know anyone in it. I cannot remember a lot of the thoughts I had. I was in the body of a very fit man in a chalk-striped dark blue suit. There was some part of me viewing his mind objectively, though I still initiated some action. In some parts he and I were of the same mindset. We went to either a terrace of a big business building or a gas station though I did not see any pumps. It was night and there were lights on the covering of the white triangular roof. Then I saw a gray-blue garbage can in front of one of those convenience store doors on the only far wall (gray/beige) to the left and then a little boy standing next to the garbage can. He had on a dark gray short-sleeve T-shirt with black lining the collar and cuffs. I cannot remember his bottom-half. Inside the door it was quite bright (sort of a white light, I could not see much). I do not know exactly how but I killed him, his head was hanging cleanly off his neck to the left but he was standing quite upright. He had black hair and looked like that kid <PERSON>. Before I killed him I had a vague feeling of frustration and surprise. There was not much blood. Then a white woman (maybe in her late 20s, early 30s) with long blonde hair in a light top and blue jeans ran up to the boy and started speaking animatedly to him. I walked away. I thought, I have to go somewhere else, then I spotted a black car pulling up (maybe a Lincoln). Before getting in I turned to look and the boy was alive again. The woman was pulling him to a red car beside a gas pump, it looked like he was trying to resist. Like there was an invisible pole and he was hanging onto it with his limbs splayed out. They looked more child-like when I killed him. Now they looked spidery and thin, stretched. He was yelling out something, he sounded panicked, I could not get any actual words. Then I turned around and woke up, hot and sweating.