Despite turning round before the summit, I still found a moment of my dreams.
I woke in a panic, gasping for air as I had done a dozen times during the night and, as each time before, reassured myself that all was actually well. One tends to work through a cycle when trying to sleep in the thin air of high altitude. As your conscious mind drifts off to sleep, your subconscious triggers an alarm that there’s not enough air and you wake with a start gasping like a newly landed fish. This time I realized there would be no more sleep tonight as the sound of the Sherpas rousing people in the other tents broke through the wind and the canvas of the tent flapping in the light breeze. It was close to midnight and the summit bid was on.
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