The ladder stayed with me

    I had many weird dreams last night. Mostly I was solving murders, not surprisingly since I was playing old-time radio mysteries all night. But there was also a novel. Or a business document. It kept changing back and forth. I wanted to drop it off to some kind of authority figure, a boss or an editor. But I had a cover note to explain it, and a cover note to explain the cover note, and a cover note to explain that and another one to explain why the first cover note didn't apply anymore, and I was having a lot of difficulty getting all this and the manuscript in order. Apparently, the Marx Brothers are writing novels in my dreams.
    There was also some business, perhaps connected with solving a murder, with a loft that I was trying to get up to. A loft like a hay loft, not a loft apartment, though I think it was more like an attic. It was reached by a red rope ladder, but not the usual rope ladder. This was just a red rope with rungs every foot or so; the rope was running down the middle of the rungs. Somehow, the whole thing stayed rigid if you just stretched it out. But the weird thing is that the thing sort of imprinted on my brain. When I dozed a little this afternoon, I found myself picturing it again. Maybe it's because I never made it up to the loft.
    Meanwhile in real life, I'm still waiting for my kitty to turn up. He appears in the night and eats his cat food and vanishes. Or maybe it's an opossum. Well at least the wildlife is well-fed!