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I have a fleeting memory of light. It was dim, hazy, ill-defined and laced with intermingled shadows, but nevertheless, it was light. There is a definite memory of pain there as well. It felt like someone was crawling around inside my skull and rattling away with a jackhammer.

I shivered slightly as I felt chilly air bite into my exposed shoulders. I groaned again and curled up into a ball under the covers, hoping that somebody would turn up the heat so I wouldn't have to crawl out of my warm cocoon to do it. As I slowly returned to the world of the semi-conscious I began to get the strangest feeling that something wasn't right. It was a suspiciously familiar feeling and I didn't like it one bit. I rolled over and stuck my head out into the cold air.

Slowly but surely the blurry patterns of light and shadow were brought into focus, revealing to my confused eyes a ceiling consisting of aged wooden beams.

There was a disturbing derailment of my train of thought as I blinked blearily at the rough lumber above me.

That was not my ceiling.

In fact, I did not recall ever having seen this particular ceiling before.

I quickly turned my head to the side and stared at the wall. It wasn't one of my walls, that much was readily apparent. This wall apparently belonged with the ceiling and appeared to be constructed out of logs chinked with generous quantities of... Clay? A small table with a wash basin on it and an old mirror on the wall above it was barely two metres away. These things were so far away from what I expected to see that I lost all powers of coherent thought for several moments. I recall having one hell of a time getting my train of thought back on track at that point. Ever go out and party to hard and wake up in some place you don't remember going to? That's pretty much how I felt at the time.

Slowly, and while trying desperately to avoid a resurgence of activity from the insane jackhammer man in my skull, I turned my gaze in the opposite direction. This time I was rewarded with a view of an old cast iron pot bellied stove, a crude table and a couple of chairs, and a large stack of firewood.

I drew another complete blank upon seeing that. I hadn't the faintest clue as to where I was but at first glance it appeared that I was in some sort of cabin or something, and one that looked positively ancient and decrepit, I might add. At that point in time I appeared to be the only occupant.

The next question that elbowed its way to the front was: How the hell did I end up here?

I was beginning to get more than a little worried by that time. There was a disturbingly empty spot in my memories when it came to anything about this place.

I tried to sit up and a familiar spike of pain shot through my left arm and dislodged a few memories from the chaos that was running a rampant stampede through my mind. It all came back to me in a wave, the waking up in the night after a terrible nightmare, the discovery of my splinted arm, the tripping over a chair, the fear and the darkness, then the panic and the oh-so-intelligent head on collision with a wall.

I grimaced and put a hand to my head. I guessed that that might explain my headache, but what about my broken arm? One glance at my swollen fingers and bruised arm told me that I should remember what happened. Fracturing one's forearm struck me as something that should be relatively easy to remember.

Try as I might, I couldn't recall anything. It is a difficult thing to explain but when I tried to remember the previous few days, there was nothing but emptiness. It was almost like I had never existed during that time. I don't think that running headfirst into that wall the night before had helped much, but I doubted that it was responsible for my total amnesia concerning the rather strange place I had ended up in.

With a groan I forced my protesting body into a standing position and watched in fascination as the room weaved crazily around me.

If I were to rate mornings on a scale of one to ten that first one would have been somewhere in the negative range. So far I was having a very bad day and I'd hardly been awake for more than five minutes. I really hoped that wouldn't get any worse.

I took a couple of wobbly steps and tried to ignore the chill that bit into my exposed flesh. Unfortunately, that very chill brought another rather disconcerting matter to my attention.

I was completely... Naked. A muttered curse escaped my lips. I was really not having a good day.

There are certain implications involved with waking up naked in strange surroundings that I didn't care to dwell on at the time. However there was one bright spot to my morning now; at least I had woken up alone. Waking to a strange face as well as strange surroundings likely would have been too much for my confused mind to handle. As it was, my day had started out badly enough. Muttering to my self, I searched around until I located my clothes lying in a neat pile beside where I had spent the night in a state that might have passed for sleep. I rummaged through the pile until I found my underwear and I nearly fell over when I tried to put them on.

I glanced around the room, my gaze soon falling upon the mirror. I made my way over to it in a not-so-straight line. Halfway there the dizziness nearly got the best of me and I was forced to reach out for the wall to steady myself. I breathed deeply for a moment, fighting with my brain in a bid to counteract the spin that had suddenly been imparted to the room. I took the next few steps toward my goal cautiously and with the wall within easy reach. Once I reached the mirror, I got another surprise and I began to wonder how many more of those I could take before something broke inside my brain.

I remember having a long stare at the reflection of what could only have been me. It wasn't the me I knew and I was completely stunned by what I saw. It was a different me, a beaten and battered me with a whitish bandage wrapped around my head that was stained red above my eyes. A myriad of small cuts and scrapes adorned my face, most of them half healed. Greasy hair stuck out at impossible angles from under the bandages and there was a slightly wild look in my eyes.

I was so surprised by that battered face in the mirror that all I could do was stare at it for several long minutes. My own bloodshot eyes stared back at me, waiting for my next move. Slowly, almost fearfully I brought my hand to my chin, checking the validity of my reflection. The hand in the mirror followed the contours of my face, checking the cuts and scrapes, the roughness of the stubble on my chin. Finally, cautiously, the hand moved to the bandages on my head and gently probed here and there.

I winced as I encountered some tender spots. There was a sizable bump on my forehead just above my right eye that I suspected was a result of the wall incident last night. There was another sizable bump on the back of my head as well. That one I wasn't so sure about. It could have been from when my head hit the floor after knocked my self out, or it could have been from some other incident.

I had no idea where all of the cuts and scrapes on my face came from though. It almost looked like I had tried to shave with a straight razor after consuming a few too many drinks.

I gripped the edge of the table tightly with both hands, not knowing what to do next. It is a terrible thing to not know what you have been through and how you have ended up where you are. Fear flowed like ice through my veins and I stayed in that position for a few long minutes with my eyes screwed tight shut, hoping that when I opened them, I'd be back in my own house, surrounded by the familiar instead of the unspeakably weird. Such things were not to be. When I finally opened my eyes, my reflection was much the same as it had been. I still had bloodstained bandages wrapped around my head, my eyes were still bloodshot and it still looked like the rest of my face had endured a close encounter with a drunken barber.

I tore my eyes away from the mirror and headed back to the bed. When I got to where I had been sleeping I saw that it wasn't a bed at all, just a pile of what looked to be deerskins, complete with hair. I eyeballed that haphazard pile, suspiciously, ground my teeth and slowly shook my head. Why did everything have to get weirder and weirder?

I dug through the pile of my clothes that lay next to the deerskins and extracted my jeans, underwear, socks and shirt. It was difficult pulling on my jeans and socks with my splinted arm but I managed without further injuring myself. Next came my shirt. There were what looked to be old bloodstains on the front of it. I frowned as I stared at it but I put it on anyway, gingerly pulling it over my splinted arm. My sweatshirt and jacket showed signs of dried blood as well. Mine? Or someone elses? I questioned. I didn't really want to know the answer either way. I searched through the rest of my clothes and noticed that my wallet, keys and pocketknife were missing.

I was getting pretty sick of questions by this time and I was really hoping to get a few answers for once but my bad luck held steady and I didn't get a single one.

With little else to do, I sat back down on the makeshift bed and let my eyes rove about, searching through every minute detail of the old cabin. I couldn't help but get the feeling that something was really wrong here. The cabin lacked any sort of modern amenities. No phone, no microwave, no running water, no electric lights, etc. There was an old kerosene lantern and a jug of some sort sitting on the table and there was a row of blackened and battered pots and pans hanging beside some unidentifiable metal containers on a shelf next to the door. For a moment my gaze rested on an impressive set of moose antlers nailed to the wall above the shelf.

I couldn't help but think that this was a very strange place to wake up.

I wasn't quite to the point of believing that this wasn't some kind of weird dream or hallucination, but this place lacked any kind of familiarity at all. This whole situation had me wandering around in a sort of clueless daze and for the briefest of moments I wondered if I had gone crazy and this place was some sort of freakish schizophrenic delusion. Unfortunately, the more time that I spent there, the harder it became to deny my situation some small shred of reality. Unfortunately, as soon as I started acknowledging the reality of my new and unusual surroundings, more problems developed.

The major problem was that this cabin, me in my current condition and everything else I had seen so far didn't exactly fit in with what I remembered of reality.

For example: How many people do you know of that live in ancient and decrepit log cabins with no electricity or running water? Nutcase hermit types excluded of course.

This was the beginning of the 21st century! How could anybody survive without a microwave?

The longer I sat there and thought, the more I realized that not only was my situation a little too strange for my liking, but I was freezing my ass off as well.

My eyes fixed on the old cast iron antique that occupied the center of the cabin and I wondered if that old stove had any heat left in it. If not there was plenty of wood lying around and there might be a pack of matches or a lighter in this old shack somewhere.

I realized with a sigh that it would be pointless for me to sit and freeze to the floor while I waited for some answers to come to me. I decided that I might as well get up and check out this place a little better. I forced myself to my feet and headed for the old stove. Luckily for me, the room didn't take another wild spin. The blackened metal of the stove was warm under my questioning fingers and I smiled at that. With a little luck there might be a few coals left. The stove door opened with a shrill squeal from rusty hinges. I grabbed a stick from the nearby stack of firewood and stirred up the ashes. After a moment, I found what I was looking for. A few small red embers glowed an angry red as they were uncovered. I grinned as I reached over to the woodpile for a few small chunks of wood. No need for matches this time. Carefully, I arranged the wood inside the stove and spent a few minutes gently blowing on the embers until the wood caught. Once it was burning steadily I stuffed more wood into the stove. In a few short minutes, there was a crackling fire and the stove radiated a delicious warmth.

It was amazing how good the heat from that stove felt that morning. It was enough to make me want to go back to sleep but I was still a little too worried about my lack of any memories at all concerning my arrival at the cabin to let myself drift off. With little choice in the matter, I resolved to deal with whatever had happened as best as I could. With sleep out of my grasp I decided that it was time to do a little exploring. I wandered over to the table. Sitting on the rough tabletop, right next to the lantern was my wallet, watch and pocketknife. Missing, however, were my keys. After a brief check through my wallet, I slipped it and the knife into the pocket of my jeans. I strapped on my watch and blinked in surprise when I looked at it. It showed 3:14pm, Monday, March 12, 2001.

I felt my eyebrows shoot straight up and try to hide in the general area of my hairline. This was not good. I seemed to have misplaced my weekend. Not only that, but I had missed a day of work as well. My brow furrowed. I could have sworn that it was still Friday...

My boss was no doubt livid at me for missing the day of work, but there was little I could have done about that. I didn't see a phone around here so I couldn't call him. He would just have to live without me at work for the time being. As I looked around, I didn't see anything else modern for that matter either. Even the battered, carbon encrusted jug sitting on the table looked to be at least a hundred years old. My curiosity got the better of me and I reached for it and eyed it critically. It had definitely seen better days. It appeared to be full of water, which was a good thing for my mouth suddenly reminded me that it felt as dry as dust. I looked around for a cup but failed to find one. My eyes rested on the wooden bowl on the table. It was well worn and shaped somewhat like a cereal bowl but it would have to do. I scooped it up, blew some dust and a few stray hairs from it and checked to make sure it was relatively clean before I filled it with water from the jug. I sniffed at the water and examined it thoroughly. It looked okay so with a shrug I drank it. It tasted a bit on the metallic side but it was cool and delicious going down my throat. With my thirst quenched, I continued my explorations.

There was really not much else of interest in the cabin. There was another makeshift bed, or perhaps just another pile of deerskins beside the table. A couple of things did strike me as being a little unusual, however. One of them was the large amount of shed fur that had collected in the corners. I picked up a random tuft and held it in front of my face. Off white, woolly undercoat from a thick-coated dog, maybe a malamute, a husky or some other big whitish furball I figured. A few long, black tipped guard hairs clung to the clump of soft fur. I shrugged and dropped the tuft. The slight odour of unwashed dog that permeated the cabin gave another clue that there might be a canine around somewhere. Not a big deal, I thought at the time. I had nothing against dogs. Another unusual thing I soon noticed was the apparent age of the shack. The floor was worn and rough and even the logs that made up the walls were faded and cracked. The door sat unevenly on its hinges and slivers of light showed where the cold outside air seeped around it to invade the interior of the cabin. The two small windows that let in the sunlight were so grimy that it was nearly impossible to see out through them. Where I came from, this place would have been condemned long ago.

There was little else to see inside so I made my way to the door. This was the part I was really dreading. I had left it till last because part of me thought that when I opened that door, my version of reality would take another blow. Another part of me was saying that there was nothing to worry about at all because this entire situation was just some kind of weird hallucination brought on by too much stress combined with excessive alcohol consumption, and that everything would be fine in the morning.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes as I grabbed hold of the door handle. I gritted my teeth and slowly pulled it open. I stood behind the door and breathed deeply for a moment, wondering if I really wanted to stick my head out into that swath of light and look upon the Outside World. I hesitated for a moment longer and slowly realized that it was too quiet, not only that but the air that flowed around the door and into the shack was damned cold. My ears strained into the silence and I shivered slightly. Wasn't it supposed to be springtime? The only sound that reached my waiting ears was that of the wind blowing through trees. I didn't hear any traffic, planes, people, dogs barking or any other signs of civilization.

This was not good.

When I finally mustered the courage to poke my head around the door, what greeted them was trees, and lots of them.

I was completely blown away by what I saw. In a daze, I stepped out onto the porch to get a better view of my surroundings. Great expanses of spruce and pine stretched out before my eyes. Huge trees, towering over the cabin, the early evening light casting their long shadows across the diminutive clearing in which the cabin stood. The ground sloped gently away from the front door, down towards an old shed that was half hidden behind a clump of spruce roughly twenty metres away. In the distance, behind the old shed, the myriad trees stretched out across a broad valley and blended into a uniform dark green hue as they crawled up and over rolling foothills and faded into the flanks of a range of jagged and snow capped mountains that lined the horizon. There was a fresh dusting of snow on top of the already thick layer of white stuff that blanketed the pristine landscape. A packed trail led away from the porch and wound its way down the gentle slope towards the old shed. There was a single set of footprints that marked the new snow on the trail, and they led away from the cabin, down towards the old shed.

I stood and contemplated this scene in total shock, my jaw hanging open and my eyes fixed in a vacant stare at the distant mountains.

Quickly, I shut the door.

The phrase, "This is not happening..." repeated over and over in my head.

For several minutes I stood there and stared at the now closed door, not comprehending in the least the complete contradiction of what I know I should have seen on the other side of that door.

This just couldn't be right.

I lived in a city with three-quarters of a million people. The nearest mountains were some three hundred and fifty kilometres away. I was at a complete and total loss for words.

I should not be here. I could not be here!

This was by far the most confusing and unusual situation I had ever found myself in. I shook my head to try and clear my thoughts as I backed away from the door and I nearly jumped out of my skin and wrenched my arm when I bumped into the table. When I had calmed down somewhat and quit swearing, I pulled up a chair and sat down. My thoughts were a chaotic jumble that threatened to overwhelm me. The walls seemed to close in and listen as I tried desperately to understand what had happened to me. I sat and thought for what felt like an eternity, but I still couldn't understand. For some strange reason, the only possibility I could come up with for me being where I was is that I must have gone out and got really drunk the night before and somehow found my way here.

Yeah right, I remember thinking.

I thought furiously. I remembered leaving work on Friday and driving home...

I remembered...

...Nothing

There was a big gap in my memories. I was missing nearly three days.

The daylight grew weaker and the shadows inched their way across the floor. And still, I sat and thought, or tried to anyways, but my mind was almost paralysed. Fewer and fewer ideas came into my mind the longer I sat and stared at the door. I was just staring into space with an empty brain when I suddenly realized that the daylight had given way to twilight's shadows and the cabin was darkening rapidly. I glanced at my watch. It showed 7:07pm.

Nothing had changed. The walls were still there, listening. The door still hung wearily from its hinges, and I was no closer to figuring out where I was, how I got there, or perhaps more importantly, who brought me there. This was all so damned confusing that I didn't know if it was real. Hopefully it wasn't, but maybe, just maybe, it was...

I didn't know if I could handle that. It was so much easier to live in denial...

"To hell with this" I announced to the empty cabin as I stood up. "I'm going to bed."

And I did so, falling asleep easily, content with the knowledge that when I woke up I would be at home. The memory of this nightmare, would be just that. A memory.