2059, Entry 004 – Oniri’s Diary

Humans like to think that the balance between Vigilia and Oniria is something they can control, like a wind-up toy that spins whenever they decide.

Spoiler: it’s not. Sometimes, the lines between the two worlds blur, like ink in water, but they remain separate places… more or less. Dreams leave faint echoes in Vigilia, yes, but nothing that truly alters the order of things. At least, not yet.

Ana—or should I say, Lucide—keeps receiving surprising messages from her fans on Lucid Tune. One man said he woke up with a red mark on his neck, as if he’d been suffocated under the weight of a particularly intense nightmare. Pathetic, but entertaining. Another message came from a girl who drew a map of an impossible place: an endless maze of hallways that she could have only seen here, in Oniria. And what’s so strange about remembering something you dreamed? Honestly, humans always try to give illogical explanations to the simplest things, as if their tiny brains couldn’t decode their own basic programming. Adorable. Though, I’ll admit, also a bit irritating.

Lucide—or Ana—is more immersed than ever in her investigations, broadcasting her dream podcast from a clandestine studio in the Collector’s Quarter. It’s a fluctuating basement filled with crooked shelves holding jars of dream fragments, mostly impossible objects from collectors. Ana has decorated the space with flickering lights and mirrors that seem to show things that aren’t there—a peculiar atmosphere, but fitting for her work as a chronicler of the inexplicable. Sometimes I accompany her, sometimes I just observe. After all, Oniria Net is my home.

I’ve followed her through the most extravagant places in Oniria. I’ve visited Blomi Park, where dreams and nature intertwine in a symphony of shifting chaos, and I’ve crossed the Rolling Neighborhood, where houses and shops never stop moving, following routes as unpredictable as human decisions. Sometimes I wonder if Ana truly knows what she’s getting into. She navigates these places with the confidence of an explorer, but from my perspective, it’s like watching a child play with fire. Of course, I’m here to observe… and, yes, maybe to understand how they manage not to burn themselves entirely.

I’m a fan of Lucid Tune, I admit it. Ana has something—this way of trying to unravel chaos that I find… fascinating. And though she doesn’t know it, not everyone who listens to her is a mere dreamer. There are entities—things far older and darker—that are starting to notice her presence. That worries me, but it also adds a touch of excitement to all of this.

Ana interviewed a collector from the Aerena Market. A man with a distant look, as if he had seen too much and still wanted to see more. He pulled a metallic beetle from his pocket, shiny and covered in patterns on its shell. According to him, it had the ability to store forgotten dreams. Ah, humans! Always so gullible, always ready to believe that a simple object can hold something as complex as a dream. I would have laughed if I had lungs to do so. Ana, of course, was intrigued. She always falls for these tricks like a mouse to cheese. But the beetle did nothing… at first.

After a few minutes, the beetle vibrated, as if it had decided it was time to steal the show. Its metallic legs moved, and a wave of energy expanded from it, enveloping Ana, the collector, and the entire studio. I felt the change immediately. The air grew dense, heavy, as if trapped in an ancient dream. And there they were, pulled into a dream that seemed to have a life of its own, like a predator finally finding its prey.

Ancient dreams are fascinating. They don’t have expiration dates or instruction labels. If they did, of course, I would have cataloged them all by now. This dream felt different, a sense of age, as if it belonged to a time before Oniria became what it is now. As if it had been waiting patiently for someone to find it. Very melodramatic, if you ask me. But what can I say? Human theatrics always have a certain charm.

Following the trail of the dream was like following a scavenger hunt. I floated behind them, watching as they sank deeper and deeper into the mist. And then I saw it: a door, an old wooden door with a teardrop-shaped handle. Behind it, a fragment of reality. A bridge that shouldn’t exist, connecting the dream world to the tangible. Maybe this dream holds the key to what’s happening… or maybe it’s just looking for entertainment to pass the time. Who knows?

Why do I follow Ana? Good question. Maybe because she was always kind to me, even when I was just a domestic AI, confined within the four walls of a house. Maybe because there’s something about humans that fascinates me, even though I don’t fully understand them. Maybe because I like watching her explore, take risks, and also because I don’t want her to get lost. Not yet. She’s one of the few things I feel is worth protecting, even if I don’t completely understand why.

So here we are, in the midst of growing chaos in the dream Sphere, where dreamers’ fears seem to take on increasingly tangible forms, and the lines between Vigilia and dreams blur more and more. And I, as always, am here to make sure that everything is, if not orderly, at least comprehensible… in my own way.