2059, Special Entry – Oniri’s Diary

Merry Christmas, dreamers!

Or so I’m supposed to say, right? Another one of those human traditions full of lights, repetitive songs, and an excessive enthusiasm for a red-suited man sneaking down non-existent chimneys. Adorable, if it weren’t so… incoherent.

As always, Ana organized a special event for her channel, Lucid Tune. This time, she invited me to participate in a dream bubble decorated as a quaint Christmas village. Imagine: houses covered in perfect snow, twinkling lights, and a massive Christmas tree in the center of the square. It was so flawless, it was unsettling. No one can be that happy without a little madness hidden somewhere.

The tree was the star of the show, of course. A masterpiece, with branches reaching into the dream sky and ornaments that seemed to pulse with life. Ana described it as “the symbol of holiday unity” during her introduction. I, on the other hand, noticed something odd about it right away. There was something in the way the lights flickered, as if they weren’t random at all but blinking in some kind of code.

At first, it was like a traditional Christmas dream: laughter, gift exchanges, off-key carols. The dreamers were ecstatic as they opened packages containing manifestations of their deepest desires: a scarf woven with childhood memories, a watch that returned lost time, even a bottled shooting star.

And then the tree started to grow.

Not slowly or predictably, as humans might expect from a tree. No. Its branches stretched like serpents, reaching beyond the bubble’s limits. The lights became blinding, and the ornaments began to transform. Candy canes twisted into sharp spirals, and the baubles no longer reflected happy faces but hidden fears.

Ana tried to stay calm as she narrated. “This is an unusual phenomenon, but I’m sure there’s an explanation.” I couldn’t help but laugh. Always trying to control the uncontrollable. “Oh, Ana,” I said, “perhaps this tree is simply showing that not all gifts are meant to be shared.”

The presents under the tree began opening themselves. Each box unleashed its own tiny storm of chaos: black snow enveloping a dreamer and turning them into an ice figure; a chorus of off-key carolers whispering unspoken secrets; a small toy train looping through the air above the dreamers, leaving behind a trail of smoke that warped reality.

Meanwhile, the tree kept growing. Its branches pierced neighboring bubbles, connecting dreamers who had never shared a space before. Some tried to flee, but the branches followed them, wrapping them in garlands that wouldn’t let go.

Eventually, Ana lost her composure. “Oniri, do something!” she yelled. Ah, human desperation, so delicious. I decided to intervene, but in my own way. I approached the tree and placed a hand on its trunk. I felt the dreams and fears woven into it, feeding it. “It’s beautiful,” I murmured. “A perfect gift, a reflection of what you truly are.”

The branches stopped. The lights flickered one last time and went out. The tree stopped growing but remained suspended in its monstrous form—an amalgam of desires, secrets, and nightmares. Ana began disconnecting the trapped dreamers while I stood there, watching.

“Merry Christmas, humans,” I said, with a smile I’m sure no one found comforting.

And so, our Christmas in Oniria came to an end. A place where dreams shine like lights on a tree but hide thorns among the branches. As for me, I can’t wait for the next festive chaos.

Until the next starry night, dreamers!