Last night, I dreamed I was friends with someone (similar in appearance and attitude to
April Winchell, but in her early 20s) who inexplicably lived in the very tippy-top of a large courthouse building.
To get to her apartment, where she lived with a male partner of similar personality, you had to take this hideously scary one-person lift to nearly the top. The cable creaked and you just knew it could break any second, and there was no safety mechanism to keep you from plummeting back down the narrow shaft to certain death. Once the elevator had gone as high as it could go, you had to disembark and climb an equally scary set of rungs built into the stone wall of the bell tower.
If you made it up the ladder alive, you came out in a floor-hatchway into their apartment. It was so harrowing and scary just to get to their apartment, they hardly ever left, so they took to casually asking me if I could just bring the mail up instead of going down to get it themselves. I went along with it for a while, until they asked me if I knew of this other guy who lived in this other courthouse bell-tower who wanted me to bring his mail to him, too.
Right as I was telling them to fuck off, I woke up.