when i was fourteen, i dreamed i ran away from home. it was very very vivid; in my dream i was sitting at my desk, writing. then i looked out of my window and up at the stars, the night was cold and i was wearing my nightgown - and i got up, quietly opened my door, crept out into the hallway past my sister's room and past my parents' room, down the stairs and out the door and past the dogs, out the gate -
and i ran. barefoot and in my nightgown, i ran up and down streets, trying to get out of our subdivision. i was nearly out when i heard something behind me and i turned and there was a car trailing me, and i knew they wanted me back.
so i turned and ran another way, and it was a macabre game of tag, with the car playing it. at some point - i was running on jade street, toward the subdivision's basketball court - my legs gave out, and i fell down, crying because i'd run my fastest and my farthest, and i still hadn't gotten away.
then the car door opened and they took me back home.
the point being that you really can't run away from things, can you? either you go back and face them, or they hunt you down.