Changelog

The browser now downloads your complete journal, including older writing beyond the first hundred entries. Matching timestamps no longer leave entries behind between pages. If a download is interrupted, the app asks you to retry instead of presenting an incomplete journal as finished.

The same download support is available to the upcoming iPhone app, which is still in development.

Higher Self’s opening now explains that conversations are private to your account and that Oreia uses AI services to respond.

Self’s mood introduction now speaks plainly about your feelings and energy.

The “Record a dream” and “Explore your dreams” shortcuts on Home now render as compact buttons. The sparkle keeps its intended size, and both links fit into the layout on phones and larger screens.

The public site now has a dedicated dream journal page explaining capture, the three analysis perspectives, free allowances, Premium, and privacy. The homepage's search title and description name the product clearly, and navigation connects the journal, reader, and symbol library.

The teeth-falling-out article now answers common questions directly, links to the original research, and distinguishes possible interpretations from findings and hypotheses. It includes a practical way to record the dream without treating it as a diagnosis or prediction.

Dream readings now have a solid, readable surface in Dawn and Dusk, with more room for the text. Follow-up actions scroll below the reading, and you can expand the images you want to explore. The analysis button has a visible label, and your home screen has a direct way to record a dream.

Each perspective now asks for a focused reading with one question to take away. Connections to past entries need a supplied title and date. The biological view distinguishes possible sleep and memory processes from symbolic interpretations.

Symbol counts now count entries, rather than repeated tags within the same entry. Threads show one connection per pair, with duplicate suggestions filtered before they are stored, and failed requests show an error instead of staying on a loading screen.

Weekly Mirrors are prepared after the Monday–Sunday week closes, with at least two eligible entries. Archive errors no longer make a Premium account look free. Premium's benefits now clearly include dream readings and follow-up conversations, and the dream editor recognises your Premium image allowance.

Privacy wording on the site now describes encryption on your device without claiming that only you hold the key.

The site’s “Read a dream” navigation now opens the dedicated reader page. Weekly Mirrors also exclude deleted entries.

The Name setting is a row now, like Email: your name sits under the label, and an arrow on the right opens the same small dialog every other single-value change uses. No inline field, no separate save button that appeared only once you had started typing.

Before this, the label had folded into a column of single letters, because the field beside it was stretching across the whole row.

On a laptop, the left menu can now hide. The chevron sits under the Oreia wordmark; click it and Home, Journal, and the rest step aside, leaving the name and that same mark in the corner so you can bring the menu back. The conversations button on the right is three bare lines now — no circle around it.

The button that opens your conversation list used to turn into an × while the list was showing. It is now the same three-line mark either way — the control that takes you to your conversations stays the control that takes you there.

The corner of the app now shows Oreia's actual icon — the one on your home screen — instead of a generic sparkle beside the word "Oreia". It sits at the top of the sidebar with the collapse control beside it, and it is transparent, so Dusk and Dawn both show through the hollow centre of the mark.

The page header stays empty of it — the mark belongs in the rail once. The Private chip stays on the far right, where it always was.

With the wordmark gone from the sidebar, the collapsed rail is narrower too: the page gets the width the word "Oreia" used to need.

Oreia is a private journal for your waking life and your dreams — not a dream app with days sprinkled in. The homepage now says so before anything else.

The tab title is "Oreia — The Journal That Listens Back." Dream-journal and dream-meaning SEO live on the dream-interpretation and symbol pages, where they belong.

The first action is "Begin your journal." "Read a dream free" is still there, as a second choice and further down the page, after you have seen what Oreia actually is. The free reader remains a way in for people who searched what a dream means; it is no longer the product the homepage leads with.

Right under the hero, a waking entry sits beside a dream entry: different pages, same story. The Connections section — the part that notices what returns across months of writing, and shows you which entries it was reading — comes next. Dream capture, the three readings, and the picture come after that.

The cinematic opening is cinematic again. The Remember / Understand / Connect row is gone; it read like every other journaling site. The closing ends on one sentence: you are the only person who will ever read it, and the only person it is about.

A Jungian reading used to land in the middle of the entry, with its own button sitting on the prose and the dream's details panel still open beside it. The reading now opens as a sheet of its own: the prose scrolls, the follow-up stays underneath, and the details panel steps aside until you close it.

Oreia will still fill in a dream's symbols for you the first time — when you ask, or silently after you save a blank form. After that, what you typed, deleted or kept is yours. Saving again no longer puts tags back.

A dream reading is no longer two short paragraphs. Oreia now walks through the images one at a time — what each is doing in this dream, how it sits next to the others — and closes with what the psyche seems to be working through. The Jungian, biological and spiritual lenses all read this way.

Under a dream reading, the images you tagged become chips. Tap one to sit with that image alone — the telephone, the forest — without starting the whole dream over. The whole reading is kept, so coming back to it does not spend another turn.

The picture Oreia chooses for a dream is still automatic, and a photo you add still wins. You can also pick a cover from the symbol gallery, upload one, or Imagine the dream. That choice stays with the entry until you change it.

The pricing page used to live inside the app, which meant you had to leave the website to find out what anything cost. It is now a page on this site, readable without an account and without JavaScript.

It takes its numbers from Stripe rather than from a copy someone remembered to update, and it takes its list of what each plan includes directly from the app's own source. That second part is the one worth explaining: a hand-written marketing version of a feature list drifts from the software until it is quietly promising something the code does not do.

It also answers the question most pricing pages avoid — what happens to your writing if you stop paying. Nothing. The account returns to the free plan and everything you wrote stays readable.

Oreia described itself as end-to-end encrypted, in the app's settings, on the pricing screen and on this site. That was not true, and the wording has been corrected everywhere it appeared.

What is true: your entries are encrypted on your device with a key generated there, and they travel and rest encrypted. What the phrase "end-to-end" also implies, and what is not the case, is that the server cannot open them. It can. A copy of your key is held wrapped on the server, which is what makes a password reset recoverable instead of catastrophic, and it is what lets Oreia write reflections on entries you have not opened.

That is a real trade-off and a defensible one, but it is not the reader's job to infer it from careful phrasing. The privacy policy now states the limit plainly, and the build refuses to publish the page if that sentence ever goes missing.

The first entries of a dream symbol library are live: water, snakes, falling, being chased, teeth falling out, and dreaming of people — an ex, someone who died, someone you know.

Each one answers the question three ways, because the honest answer is that nobody knows for certain which frame is right: what Jung would say, what sleep researchers can actually demonstrate, and what the symbol has meant in spiritual traditions. Most dream dictionaries pick one and state it as fact.

They are written one at a time rather than produced in bulk. Two to four a week is the pace, and the build refuses to publish an entry that skips a perspective or opens with a heading instead of an answer.

The privacy policy was rewritten from an audit of what the code actually does rather than from a template. It names which columns are stored in plaintext and why, which third parties see anything, and what the encryption does not protect you from.

Alongside it, the webfonts are now served from this domain. Loading them from Google's CDN sent your IP address to Google on every page view, before you had clicked anything and without any way to decline — a small thing that quietly made a privacy-first site depend on the largest advertising company in the world.

There is still no cookie banner, because there is still nothing to consent to. The storage page lists what this site puts on your device, which is nothing.

You can now describe a dream and have Oreia read it without signing up, without a card and without an email address. The reading is generated, shown, and then gone — the dream is not stored, not logged and not used to train anything.

This is the same interpretive approach the app uses, running on a separate service that holds no user data at all, so a public endpoint cannot become a way into anybody's journal.

It is genuinely free rather than free-until-you-hit-a-wall. If it turns out to be useful, the journal is where the same reading gets better, because it can see what you dreamt last month.

Closing an account removed your entries, but it left things behind: the vector embeddings used to find links between dreams, the generated images, and rows in several smaller tables. Nothing there was readable as your writing, but it was still yours, and leaving it was not what the button said it did.

Deletion now clears both vector indexes and every stored image file before it touches the database, so a failure halfway through cannot leave orphaned data with nothing left pointing at it. If any step fails, nothing is deleted at all and you are told, rather than being shown a success message over a partial job.

One thing is deliberately kept: records required for tax and accounting law, which Article 17(3)(b) GDPR does not permit to be erased on request. The privacy policy says which.

Entries can now be collected into journals — a shelf of named collections over the same writing, so an entry can sit in more than one without being copied.

Entries themselves got the things a journal is expected to have and did not: a title of your own choosing, a full date rather than just the day it was typed, drafts that are actually drafts, and a crop for the image.

You can also delete an entry from the feed. It asks you to confirm by name first, because the one action in a journal that cannot be undone should not be a single tap next to the one that opens it.

When Oreia says something about you, it now shows the writing it drew that from. Tap an observation and the quotes appear — your own sentences, in your own words, with the dates they were written.

The check-in questions work the same way. Instead of asking something generic, a question cites the entry that prompted it, so you can see whether the connection it made is one you agree with.

This is the difference between a tool that reflects you back and one that tells you about yourself. The first is only trustworthy if you can check it, and you could not check it before.