Tell it in the dark
At waking, a dim red screen you can use half asleep. Type or say the dream aloud; pause too long and the words pale, the way a dream does. Then one question: did you know it was a dream?
Stillcraft / Apps / Spintop
Lucid dreaming isn't a gift, it's a habit: asking “am I dreaming?” often enough that you ask it in your sleep too. Spintop builds that habit in three small moments a day. In the morning you tell your dream in the dark; in the day a few quiet checks ask whether you're dreaming; at night two minutes with the top and an intention. A wooden top on a lamplit desk keeps count: the more you practise, the longer it spins.
Android 9.0+ · Free · English & Русский
At waking, a dim red screen you can use half asleep. Type or say the dream aloud; pause too long and the words pale, the way a dream does. Then one question: did you know it was a dream?
School and exams, running late, lights that won't turn on, a childhood home, water: the app finds what keeps happening in your dreams by itself. Nothing to tag. Add a sign of your own in your own words.
A few times a day, at moments you can't guess, “Are you dreaming?” with one check that dreams get wrong: count your fingers, read a line twice, pinch your nose and breathe. One tap on “Checked”.
Two minutes of MILD, the best-tested way into lucid dreams: recall your last dream, look at tonight's sign, and hold the top spinning while you repeat the intention. Then the lamp goes down.
Dreams remembered, checks and rituals wind it up, glimmers and lucid dreams most of all. A missed day loosens it a little, nothing more. Each lucid dream adds a brass ring; the morning after one, it glows and doesn't fall all day.
Warm walnut and lamplight, dim enough for bed. Dreams stay on the phone: no account, no internet, no tracking.








| What you do | Why it helps | |
|---|---|---|
| Morning | Tell the dream, say how clear it was | Remembered dreams are the ones you can wake up in |
| Day | A few reality checks | The question becomes a habit and turns up in sleep |
| Night | Recall, tonight's sign, the intention | You fall asleep expecting to notice |
JDK 17+ (Android Studio's bundled JBR works) and the Android SDK. Kotlin, Jetpack Compose, Room, DataStore; the desk, the lamp and the spinning top are drawn in code.
git clone https://github.com/bigdevwhale/slumber.git cd slumber ./gradlew testDebugUnitTest # signs, the wind-up, the top's spin ./gradlew assembleDebug # app.slumber.dev, installs next to a release ./gradlew assembleDebug -Pdemo # app.slumber.demo with three weeks of practice
Reality checks, a dream journal and MILD are the techniques with the best evidence behind them, and the app puts all three into one small daily routine. Most people need a few weeks of practice; a first glimmer of “wait, is this a dream?” usually comes before the first fully lucid dream.
Start with the morning: tell anything, even one word or a feeling, before you sit up. Recall grows within days of doing this, and the signs appear once a few dreams are in.
Your dreams, checks and rituals, on the phone only: no account, no ads, no internet permission at all.
How many Saturdays you have left, and what you'll do with them.
The mindfulness multi-tool: breathing, Wim Hof, a bell, practices and a journal.
A strict focus timer that actually blocks distractions.
Don't drift apart from the people who matter.
Quit a habit, one day at a time.
Turn your days into a quest.
A quiet place for your mind.
Intermittent fasting, made warm and simple.
Your city, hidden in mist. Walk to reveal it.
Letters to your future self. Sealed until the day comes.
Every win deserves a little praise.
Goals under a night sky: 17 methods in one app.
Earn obols with useful apps, pay Charon for the feed.
One light, many colours: choose who you are in every part of life.
Cold water, contrast showers and the sauna, tempered like steel.
Chores as spells in a wizard's tower: keep the floors bright, wake the helpers.
A pixel-art familiar that feeds on the pages you read.
Photos and clips struck into pixel-art treasure in a dragon's cave.
A film camera for the family: shoot now, see the prints tomorrow.
They grow up faster than the photos do.
A merry app about death and growing old, in the spirit of the Day of the Dead.
Vows sealed with wax, and a ladder that makes them hard to break.
A scriptorium for what you learn: your own words, fading ink, and memory that holds.
About 940 Saturdays until they're eighteen. Spend them together.
A museum for what you want to remember: dig it up, clean it, put it on show.
Race your own ghost at everyday tasks: splits, medals and the Games.
Intrusive thoughts as ships: the lighthouse beam, the evening watch, forecasts checked.
A magic lantern deals the glass; parent and child make up the bedtime tale.
A date night for two on a night train: a conductor's questions, the phone as the table between you.
The same questions to your child, yourself or a grandparent, year after year, laid as a mosaic.
Your mind is a kite on a string. A few soft tugs a day bring it back to here.
There is too much music. One album a week, a whole side at a time, on a turntable or a tape deck.
There's too much to watch. So nothing gets watched. Your watchlist as a nineties video rental store.
Every date is a quest. The two of you are a party of heroes, and the phone is your game master.
Found a bug, missing a feature, or want it in your language? Tell us on GitHub.
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