So I live (in the dream) in the same building as Jeremy, former Audiopile clerk and drummer for Shearing Pinx, and he's actually there, instead of engaged in nomadic wanderings as is presently the case. I visit him, and we talk - about the environment, about my being Facebook friends with Gary Floyd, and other things. It's mostly quite straightforward and realistic; it's not one of these dreams where things are only loosely pieced together following tangled dream-logics. We decide to go outside together, using the stairs in the building, which are designed so that for certain flights of stairs, you actually find yourself in someone else's apartment, and have to use their door to exit into the hallway, which, in fact, is what we do. I am glad that my apartment - in the corner - isn't designed this way; I think as we walk through someone else's living room that it must be weird to have people cross through your space in the middle of the night.
In any event, we're walking around in Maple Ridge (not where I presently am, as I dream this, nor where I now live, since I've moved in with my girl in Burnaby). He releases into the air a mobile made of balloons, colouful rubber gloves, and bits of plastic, with a framework of dowels and fishing wire, and it floats up into the sky; this is his hobby - making mobiles that float in the air. But one balloon breaks off, and the others deflate, and the whole thing, I see, comes down, threatening to get caught up in a tree. I oblige and pick it up, asking, what do we do now, is it garbage?
He's a little incensed that I suggest this, since that would be wasteful. He wants me to carry his balloon-mobile. I do, though the fishing line is cutting into my fingers a bit. "So isn't this stuff bad for the environement," I ask.
"It's biodegradable," he replies. Well. I'm thinking to myself that it's still going to take a long time to biodegrade, but mostly because I don't want to be carrying his balloon mobile. But I think of another question about his curious hobby, and ask him, "so can you patch these? Because if I know someone who can repair a balloon, it's got to be you."
He gets even more upset at this, and starts to explain that if he'd only known how hard it was to repair balloons when he was in St. Petersburg (ie., Russia), he would have done something very different with the mobile I'm carrying.
That's when my alarm wakes me, as I'm asking Jeremy to explain...