As a child I always dreamed of running away from home. Not in a trivial, impulsive way, but in a controlled planned fashion. If I had chosen to go, I would have squirreled away supplies, packed survival gear. I knew how to hide, how to keep warm if lost in the woods, that certain plants were edible--dandelions, bracken root, and which berries were not.
I backpacked extensively as a kid and was not afraid of wilderness. In fact, wilderness became essential to a certain healing of my soul. Sometimes, I'd dream of running to the mountains. Sometimes, I thought I'd go to the ocean. There is a lot more food there. Sea weed and mussels are easy to harvest, cook and eat.
I must have known it was not real, but I felt I needed the safety net, of being able to fend for myself. If I had decided to make a go of it, I would not have been found for quite a while.
Nowadays, when I want to run away I'd have a credit card. I'd take a plane. I would probably head for Paris, Brussels, Provence, Tuscany. Stay a few weeks and head home of my own volition. Being an adult allows options for a much more comfortable escape.