The family was going to move. It was a sort of a "Father knows best" family. A woman, older (a Lady XXX type, a sad woman I knew in XXX who was lonely and threatened suicide), came by and threatened suicide. Some of my family decided to stay to help her. Then, I was on the road, driving. I looked up to see part of my family in a truck, semi-crashed across the road, but everyone was O.K. I went on down the road and saw Lady XXX's beat up old van/housetrailer crashed into a bank. She was O.K. She was a bit sheepish and stubborn. I thought that she had tried to die. I was annoyed at her because it was causing trouble for my family. I looked up, and across the street was a huge home-made camper, a complete house for a large family on wheels including a back porch. I was laying down in the back of Lady XXX's van with Lady XXX comforting her. I started to go to my family but Lady XXX holds on to me. She didn't want me to leave her. I looked out the window again and saw my teen-age "brothers and sisters" out for a walk to stretch their legs. Some younger ones opened the van and crawled in. I decided to join my family. I got out, against Lady XXX's protests. I was driven across the street by a brother, a younger brother. I was surprised he knew how to drive. He asked which entrance I wanted to use to get into the camper. He says, "It doesn't matter which." The back entrance had 4 steps. The front entrance had a huge flight of stairs first going up and then down, with a landing or two here and there. I said indignantly, "It does too matter. I'm not walking all those steps." I went to the back and got in. Now it was just a big, crowded van. My "brother" was talking as he was driving and not paying attention. He let some of the wheels go over the edge of a cliff that went straight down to the sea. He looked at my "dad" and was horrified. My father waited to see if he would wake up. I was horrified because we were all going to crash to our death. The van slid slowly over the edge and stopped. I knew if anyone moved, it would then continue sliding to the sea and then, death. I decided to save myself. I decided I'd crawl over bodies of my family if necessary but I'd save myself. I started to carefully crawl up and out. A 1 year old baby was caught upside down near me. I grasped the edge of the cliff. Then, I just couldn't leave her, so I reached down and grabbed the baby and threw her up to safety. I felt scared and sad. I scrambled up to the road edge and started grabbing any babies or people around, to assist them. The van tumbled half-way down the cliff. People and things were scattered all over. I saw "dad" half-way down and I yelled, "Dad, dad, dad!" I say, "Here, reach up, I can pull you up." He looked at me sadly. I felt fear that he was too big and would pull me back over. I was also afraid he wouldn't try to reach up to me. I got a blanket and leaned it over the edge to reach him. Other people reached out to me (one of them, Oriental). I pulled them up to safety as my father refused to be helped. I felt sad. All the rest that could be saved were. My father decided to try. I then saw that part of one leg was missing. He crawled up to the edge and someone else and I helped him over the edge. We were near the edge. I was crouched near him, comforting him. I said, "Are you O.K.?" He said he thought one leg was broken and the other one gone partly. A young man, a violinist, came over. He was the anesthesiologist. He started to play. My father got quite upset and told him to go away. He was distressed and tried to explain how his music would help take away the pain. A second violinist was called in, a young woman with a very ornate violin. I looked up at her and explained that dad wouldn't listen. I defended his position. I said, "Look, how would you like it if you had to listen to violins all day at work (my father's a music teacher), and then come home to your family and hear violins (I played for 5 years and my mother played too), you'd be sick of it too." I used a second analogy but I don't remember it.