The night of September 29th

I was walking in the snow.
It was very cold out. Very brisk. I was some where in the mountains. Only a cabin was there. Civilization was miles away. It would take at least a day or more to get home.
I had stayed at the cabin. I was with a family I used to spend time with. Something happened. I'm not quite sure what. Perhaps some sort of quarrel. Whatever had happened, had put an end to the stay at the cabin and they drove off down the snowy road in some brownish gold vehicle, my memory recalls to be a stationwagon. It could have been a honda. Whatever it was, it was driving away.
I was was alone with nature. I remember the trees off the side of the road. The air was so cold, the fear of freezing to death entered my mind. How would I get back? I concluded that, if they had to, my parents would be willing to drive the day (day and a half) to come get me. But I hadn't given up yet.
I raced up to the cabin. I might recall begging for something. What was I begging for? Time? I needed to hurry. If I was quick enough I could make some cuts through paths and maybe meet up with the traveling car. Maybe I could get a ride. Would they let me in?
I remember being scared. I remember being scared, and cold. And uncertain.

And then, next to the trees, I was eating something. I was slurping it in.
I suddenly woke, finding my face on the damp pillow, sucking in drool.