SOme says that talking about your dreams is boring, but personally, I think that the night getaways of another world offer a much richer fodder for little conversations than the football season or this non -seasonal time. Unfortunately, not everyone agrees. This is why, when I hear about an interpretation application of Dream AI, I am seduced by the potential of a captive and supernatural assistant to help me decipher the most confusing corners of my psyche.
AI chatbots such that Chatgpt have a well -known tendency to riff and to exaggerate with alarming confidence, but their verbal nature feels well adapted to the free form and a highly associative task of dream analysis. Admittedly, exchanging little understood fragments of our asleep minds to a technological startup in exchange for spiritual guidance resembles the disturbing premise of a terrifying science fictional horror film. But the small characters of the application promise that dreams are stored “safely and in private”. Who am I to leave an intuitive aversion to accommodate the machine in the last private vestiges of my conscience hindering a good story?
I download the application, I punch in a recent dream and apparently benign – I visit the supermarket to complain of a “defective condiment”, a worker at the apathetic checkout rejects my concerns, and I stunned the peanut butter cheerfully Stolen on a piece of toast – and I hit the “interpreted” magic wand. “Dreaming links all humanity together,” replied the application, gushing Jack Kerouac as a bad meeting of Tinder, before proposing that my dream could allude to feelings of dissatisfaction and helplessness, as well as To a desire to assert myself. It is convincing, if it is not inspired. A clear analysis of my dream scenario without any hallucinatory fervor for which I came here.
Hoping to cause deeper revelations, I create AI with more disturbing vignettes. In one, I helped the police ostensibly catch a murderer, while secretly sending him flirtatious texts, which apparently play them both. The application sees an inner conflict between morality and an attraction for danger. In another, I am lost, careful in a manner in a hotel in search of my husband and my baby; I pass a lifting dancefloor, a woman making strange and guttural noises and an idyllic beach which, a more in -depth inspection, is only a mirage. Apparently, all this rich imaging is equivalent to a potential conflict between my own desires and societal expectations. Soft to reflection, but barely enlightening.
For the credit of developers, AI is boring in a boring way: it avoids absolute, reminds me that dreams have several meanings and recommends therapy if my dreams begin to take over on me.
The only thing that attracts me out of the way is the strange visuals generated by AI; The quest for the hotel evokes a pair of dancing potatoes and the inexplicable phrase “Ple8t Pabet”. On the other hand, when I share this dream with a community in person of dream lovers, their ideas are really surprising, to note my strong sense of objective throughout the quest to observe how the discomfort in a hotel evokes films such as The Shining and Lost in translation.
Although the application does not break and does not exactly reconstruct my sense of self, it has practical features, such as the ability to identify and search for recurring symbols in your dreams. (Try to filter years of handwritten journals for “mother”.) And it is certainly practical to understand that my phone captures ephemeral dream fragments and early in the morning, although I always find myself transcribing these digital dreams in my newspaper .
Part of the pleasure of crossing my dream landscape is the ritual element of the morning pages on a coffee. The hot light of the screen kills romance, especially since I invariably find myself in another corner of my phone, spiritually further from all potential revelations. Maybe my dream practice is supposed to be tactile and reflective, rather than effective and gamified.
A few days later, while I think about what could be lost for humanity, if we choose collectively to train algorithms on these sacred messages of our dream psychi. I stand in front of an audience, prepares to make a presentation on dreams, when a figure of my passes interrupts and threatens to read the Dream newspaper that I left negligently in my seat. Filled with rage, I force him to recite from his own dream journal, which he does with a silly goblin voice. “Do you no longer love me?” I thought you loved me in the past? He presses. The interpretation of the AI confirms what I already know: my dreams are shy, wise and resolved that at least part of my private inner landscape should remain like this.
In the coming days, my dreams stop completely, giving the strange feeling that my subconscious is on strike, refusing to start again until I promise not to sell it at AI. Unable to conceive of the chore of a dreamless life, I delete the application and all traces of my dream data with it. I downloaded my dreams on the AI and all I got was the revelation that my subconscious is a luddite opposite to technology.
