In the dream I believe I was myself as I am now: 20 and openly out as nonbinary. I was in an erroded maroon red van and was sitting in the passenger seat. The seats were an ugly leather with orange/tan linings. Greg, my biological ex-dad, was driving. He was arguing at me about everything in the petty book he could think of, and spouting extremist religious nonsense, and it was getting bad, so I went to sit in the back of the van with my sister(?), her husband, and baby. She only fed into everything Greg was saying and they all ended up bombarding me with arguments and yelling. I stopped trying to even respond at that point. I quickly went into disassociation, staring at the ongoing cars, slightly wondering what it'd be like to be in their cars and whether or not it'd be better than this. Would that car offer me water and talk about life and laugh the whole way? Would that car hold a serial killer just ready for the pounce once I entered their domain? Would that car with kids in it have ended up being a babysitting opportunity for me, to make some cash for the road, if I were hitching a ride in their soccer mom van? I suddenly hear a thought of Greg's about if I were to just get out of the vehicle now. Snapping back, I try to reason with them and get them to understand my side of the coin, but they just yell over me and call me obscene names like demon, dyke, my biological late mother's name as an insult, and f**got. I mentally tune out and bodily shut down, until they reach a gas station. It's some non-existent business, mostly with red and yellow in their exterior designs, and though it looks to be in a run down neighborhood, it also has a big car wash. They all get out to get gas and do business... and I grab my olive green backpack and go to sit on the curb side, near an old green truck with rust all over it. "No busses, either... oh well," I think. They all seem to notice right away and question me, as if my decision was so unwarranted, some huge surprise. Greg ends up scoffing at me but I can see he is visibly upset that he wasn't the one to "win", because I left before he could throw me out himself. My sister(?) is the only one who seems to tell me to get in the van, but I tell her, "f**k off with your daddy." She shakes her head and calls me something to the tune of "heathen" and that she would "pray 4 me" and they all get in the van and leave. I don't cry, but I feel like my body is crying. I can barely move, the pain starts to become overwhelming. I see some dark clouds overclouding the fluffier grey-white clouds; I'm slightly cold and thought it might rain, but at least I have my shabby jacket and boots on.look to the passing cars, wondering who might help me get to my destination, or how I might suffer through the chronic pain and walk the probably hundreds of miles like that guy in Castaway (though he jogged). I never really knew what my destination was to begin with... I assumed the end of the road would simply be my last breathe. I wake up.