While wandering between voids, one more door, another layer, you always return to where you started.
But each time, you face the same question: “Why does this place exist?”
And then you ask again.
And again.
Not for struggle,
but for wonder.
Not for answers,
but for questions.
Not for walking,
but for watching.
When will you realize
you’re still in the same dream?
If every door opens to the same dream,
then where are you?
Is what you call reality
simply the one that isn’t a dream?
There is no sound.
Or maybe only in your mind.
Do you see through your eyes,
or watch yourself from a distance?
As if you had a choice.
I guess you never did.
Valleys filled with flowers from childhood drawings.
The trees feel like something too—
Between them, some strange things appear.
And objects—things you’ve forgotten how to use.
Time doesn’t always follow rules here.
You’ve been here before.
But something is different.
The room is filled with thoughts
you didn’t want to forget.
Each chapter opens a door.
And behind it—
a place you’ve seen before.
But something is always different.
Just enough to make you ask,
“Was it always like this?”
You move with no one leading you.
Photos, paintings, and objects appear—
some you recognize,
some feel like they should mean something.
You don’t search for answers.
You just notice things.
And sometimes,
it almost makes sense.
You reach without touching.
Some objects respond to you by pressing “F”
“F” for focus.
Nothing stays fixed—
not even the rules.
Dreams don’t wait for you to understand.
Some objects is a door itself when you touch them.
That’s how you know—
another door is near.
To cross a boundary
is another way to shift.
Even the world itself is a door.
But just before things make sense,
they slip away.
With each new place,
something inside opens a little more.
You don’t escape—
but you begin to drift freely.
The loop returns.
And with it,
the paths begin to reveal themselves.
Not all at once—
just enough
to keep you moving.
You never know when a loop ends—
but something has shifted.
The world doesn’t just change.
It remembers.
When it speaks,
it speaks in unfamiliar forms.
You enter a place
where nothing is waiting.
There is space—
for silence,
and for whatever followed you in.
You wander.
Some things begin to show themselves.
That’s all.
In some places,
things feel heavier.
Not in weight—
but in what they seem to hold.
You’d like to look closer.
And the objects begin to speak,
without ever saying a word.
There’s an exhibition—
it’s part of the dream too.
It holds pieces made by us,
and by those we love.
That’s why this place keeps changing.
Not everything has been remembered yet—
and some things
still need to be painted.
This isn’t a journey you can finish.
It opens you as you move.
Dreams transform,
memories and emotions
take on new meaning.
Nothing
stays the way you left it.
There is no pause.
No save.
No settings.
Dreams can’t be saved.
If you’re lucky,
you might see them again.
Try to control them—
and they slip away.
You move like you’ve always known how.
W, A, S, D.
SPACE, jump.
Hold the left mouse to turn your gaze.
Press C to change how you see.
Shift is different—
it’s your strength,
a hidden reflex
when the dream begins to push back.
You’ll feel when it’s needed—
especially in wide, open spaces.
One day we’ll meet in the same dream.
Knowing that we’ve passed through it before.
And, you’re back
where it all began.
What changed?
We’d never know if you’ve read this far, but we’ll keep writing.
To be continued.
