Striding Edge is a ridge on Helvellyn in the Lake District, over a mile long. It's a personal bête noire, given that I was half way across it one clear, icy January day a few years ago, when I suddenly realised how genuinely, truly terrified I was. Half way across is a tricky point at which to have such a realisation, it makes as much sense to continue onward as to turn back.
This feeling was perhaps surpassed only by the sheer relief when I got to the far side of it and was still alive - a feeling which lasted for several days. Which might be an exaggeration, but deaths do unfortunately occur there from time to time.
Today I was due back at work after a few very pleasant days off.
Last night I dreamt that I found myself with three friends who informed me that we were not only going to walk Striding Edge, we were going to camp there overnight too. The conditions, even at base level, were treacherous - and I felt a rising sense of unease: I didn't know we were coming here to do this, I don't have the gear, not even my walking boots, I have my battered pair of trainers which barely have any tread left. I'll slip. I don't have my thermals or my waterproofs, I'm not prepared, I'm going to be in trouble.
I woke up afterwards and thought - this is telling me I need to be ready for a whole bucketload of shit when I'm back at work today - I can't allow myself to be caught unawares.
Thank goodness for that dream.