When I was younger, we lived on a farm out in the country in rural Southeastern Minnesota. Neither my mom or dad worked on the farm but it was family owned and that is where I grew up. There was a plot of woods a half mile down the road from my house that my cousin and I always said we were going to run away to someday. This chunk of woods was huge and plentiful and would be the perfect spot for us to run away to because it is within walking distance and nobody would ever know we were there given the size and majestic qualities of this plot of woods. One day, my parents and I got into an argument about something I can't even remember so I decided to pack my things and make a run for the woods. To make a long story short, I got a huge lecture by my parents after this whole thing happened because they were worried about me and it was irresponsible of me. A couple years ago, though I brought this memory up to both my parents and they proceeded to tell me that the whole thing never happened. I never ran away from home and it must have been a dream. On top of that, I have since gone back to where that huge, majestic woodlot once was, and it was hardly a wood lot. You can almost see through the entire thing because it's only 50 feet wide, maybe. When I asked my dad what happened to it, he told me that's the way it always has been. Weird, I guess things are not how I imagined it when I was younger.