What Lucid keeps.
As of 26 September 2026
Lucid is one person's project running on one machine. There is no company behind it, nobody buying anything from it, and nothing here is written to make a lawyer comfortable. This page says what is actually stored, because you are writing down your dreams and you are owed a straight answer about where they go.
What is kept
Your account. Your handle, your email address, your bio and picture if you set them, your lucid key, and the day you joined. Your password is stored only as a hash — a scrambled form that cannot be turned back into what you typed. Nobody, including whoever runs Lucid, can read your password.
What you write. Your dreams and the responses you leave on other people's, with the time each one was written. Your reactions. The dreams you mark on Common Dreams. Any encounter you record. Any drawing you send to Mall World, with its description and whether you said it could be shown.
What you do about other people. Who you block. Anything you report, along with a copy of the text exactly as it read when you reported it — so a decision can be explained later without depending on anybody's memory.
The blind question. Your answer, and how many seconds passed between you making an account and answering it. That gap is the point: an answer given before you had read anything here is worth something, and one given afterwards is not.
Your best score in Counting Sheep and Wake Up!, and a sign-in token so you stay signed in.
What is never kept
- Your IP address. Not in a log, not in a table, not anywhere. Lucid does not record it at all.
- Anything from another company. No analytics, no advertising, no tracking pixels, no embedded video, no fonts loaded from Google. The page you are reading loads nothing from anywhere except Lucid itself.
- Your password, in any readable form.
- Your location, your contacts, or anything about your device.
The font on this page used to come from Google's servers, which meant every visitor's browser handed Google their address before they had even signed up. It was the only thing on the whole site leaking anything to anyone. It was removed.
Counting visitors without following them
Lucid keeps three small counts, and they are built so that they cannot become a record of a person.
- How many page loads happened on a given day. A number, nothing else.
- Which site sent someone here — only the site's name, like
reddit.com, and how many times. Never who. - Roughly how many different browsers showed up that day, stored as
sha256(random id + that day), cut short. The random id is not tied to your account, the day is mixed in so the same browser produces a different value tomorrow, and there is no way to work backwards from it to a person or a device.
That is the whole of it. It answers "are more people coming?" and it cannot answer "what did this person read?", which is deliberate.
Who can see what
The feed is public. Anyone can read the dreams, including somebody with no account at all. Write with that in mind — if it is not for strangers, it should not go in the feed.
Your email is never shown to anyone. It is used to sign you in and to reach you if something goes wrong. It is not sold, shared, handed to anyone, or put on a mailing list.
Blind answers are never published. Not as quotes, not as totals, not in a research write-up. The same goes for the claims register. They exist to be studied properly, and publishing them would destroy the thing that makes them worth having.
Drawings are shown only if you said they could be. If you did not tick that box, yours is not on the page, and nobody who sent one is ever told what anybody else sent.
Reports are one-way. Whoever you report is never told who reported them. You will not hear back either — a report is not a conversation between two people.
Removing things
You can delete a dream you wrote at any time, and remove any response you left. If it is your dream, you can remove any response on it without waiting for anyone.
Two honest caveats, because a page like this is worthless if it is not honest about the awkward parts.
Removed is not the same as gone
A removed response stops being shown, but stays readable on the server. That is on purpose: when somebody disputes a decision a week later, the only fair way to settle it is to be able to say what was actually written. A row that no longer exists cannot defend anyone — not the person who removed it, and not the person it was removed from.
Backups keep a copy for a while
Lucid is backed up every night, with the last fourteen kept on the machine and copies on a separate drive. Something you delete today can still exist inside a backup taken yesterday. That is what a backup is for, and it is the reason the site survives a disk failing — but it means deletion is not instantaneous everywhere.
If you want your whole account gone, ask and it will be done by hand. That removes your dreams, your responses, your reactions, your blocks, your blind answer, your scores, your encounters and your drawing records. A couple of places keep only a handle with nothing attached to it — a recorded match between two dreamers, or a suggestion sent through the suggestion box — and any drawing file already on disk is deleted separately. Ask and that goes too.
Where it all physically is
On a computer in a house, in the United States. Not a rented server, not someone's cloud, not a service that could be bought tomorrow by a company with different ideas. The connection between your browser and that machine is encrypted.
The page itself is served from GitHub Pages, which is what puts
lucidatnight.com on the internet. GitHub sees that a browser
asked for the page. It never sees your dreams, your account, or anything you
write — all of that goes straight to the machine, not through them.
If this changes
The date at the top changes with it. Lucid will not quietly start collecting something this page says it does not.
Lucid is a personal project, not a company, and this page is a plain description rather than a legal document. Questions about any of it can go through the suggestion box on the main page.