The inner world.

I believe that the exploration of states of consciousness should be accessible to as many people as possible. We have dedicated generations to discovering the outside world. The inner territory deserves the same curiosity.

What moves me is its vastness. Our body occupies a limited space, but a dream, an emotion, an imagination cannot be measured in that way.

I want us to rediscover the pleasure of spending time with ourselves. Observing how a thought appears. How an emotion is born. Letting a daydream take us away without deciding everything.

It is this culture of inner travel that I want to cultivate with Dream Machine.

Brice

We know how to send a message to the other side of the world. We can visit a city before ever setting foot there, follow a distant conversation, fill every silence with a new image.

And sometimes, amidst this immense openness, we no longer really know how we are doing.

There is a territory to which we give little time. The one where our thoughts are born, where our emotions pass through, where our imagination composes worlds.

We want to give it back its time. To give it a place in our days, in our homes, in our culture.

Fostering a culture of inner travel.

Creating light-based instruments that invite you to explore your perception, take time for yourself, and encounter your experience in a new way.

Making this exploration more accessible: a principle explained clearly, an intuitive usage, an invitation with no levels to reach or beliefs to adopt.

Dream Machine offers sessions of pulsed light perceived with eyes closed. This is our way of contributing to it. The inner world remains much vaster than the instrument itself.

We want everyone to feel empowered to take an interest in what happens within them. This curiosity is a part of life.

A body fits in an armchair.

A memory can contain an entire city.

A reverie traverses places that exist on no map.

What is the size of a dream?

We speak of territory because there is so much left to discover, very close to us.

The phone lights up on the table. A name appears. Then a headline, an image, another conversation. We haven’t moved, and our attention has already gone elsewhere.

We love what these exchanges make possible. But their invitations follow one another so quickly that we may forget to choose among them.

Turning our gaze inward begins with a modest gesture: leaving an interval open. A few minutes for which no one else chooses the content.

In this space, a question finds its place again. What is happening for me, right now?

At night, the inner world regains an immense space. Scenes form, faces return, places intermingle. In the morning, an impression sometimes remains that one would like to hold on to.

Then the day calls to us. Tasks resume, and so do interactions.

We want to give inner curiosity an awakened place. To close our eyes from time to time by choice. To take an interest in what we perceive, in what passes through us, in the movement of our imagination.

The appointment can be brief. It deserves to exist before fatigue alone decides the time of return.

We know the value of a conversation where someone truly listens to us. Time loosens its grip. A sentence finally finds its shape. We hear better what we were trying to say.

We can grant ourselves a little of that availability, too.

How am I doing? What is worrying me? What do I notice when I stop responding to the outside world for a moment?

There is not always a clear answer. But this attention in itself has meaning. It gives a place to an inner life that busyness often leaves in the background.

When watching a film, we wait for a scene to happen. A prepared narrative guides us. The rhythm, the images, and the surprises have been chosen for us.

The inner journey invites a different way of looking.

A color may be enough to capture one's attention. An impression may change before it even has a name. A moment may remain calm.

We invite you to encounter what comes with fewer preconceived expectations. Richness is sometimes discovered when we stop asking every second to impress us.

No trailer can decide your experience.

Close your eyes.

Do not prepare for the next image.

See what comes.

Sometimes, curiosity starts there.

A thought appears. You find yourself in an old conversation. You change a response. Another scene arrives: tomorrow, a meeting, something not to be forgotten.

A few moments have passed. You have traveled through several places without leaving the room.

Observing this movement means beginning to notice how our inner life unfolds. What returns. What carries us away. What drifts off when attention shifts.

There is a profound curiosity in these details. A thought also becomes interesting by the way it appears, the way it occupies us, and then the way it passes.

Sometimes, there is a sensation first. A tightening, a warmth, an impulse. Then we search for a word: impatience, joy, anxiety, tenderness.

The word helps. It does not always tell the whole story.

Taking time with oneself also means letting an emotion exist long enough to notice its nuances. Its connection to a thought. The way it changes. What it makes us want to do.

This attention does not resolve all difficulties. It opens an intimate question: what can I learn from what I am experiencing, when I grant it a little presence?

We sometimes describe ourselves using phrases that have become familiar. I’m like this. I always react that way. I already know what I like and what suits me.

Then an experience introduces a nuance. We notice an unexpected reaction, a forgotten desire, another way of approaching a thought.

Self-knowledge remains alive when it retains this possibility of surprise.

We want to make room for this discovery. For what we recognize, for what we understand better, for the questions that remain. The inner journey does not need to yield a definitive portrait of the one who undertakes it.

When a thought returns often, it can eventually seem indisputable. A way of explaining the past. An idea of what is possible for us.

Noticing it sometimes makes us want to question it. Is this the only way to see things? What other space can I make for this situation?

It is this openness that interests us. The possibility of a less rigid view of oneself, of a nuance that one had not yet considered.

Exploration does not transform us at will. But we can remain curious about the person we are, and the perspectives we have not yet encountered.

A shape takes form, comes undone, suggests another. You haven’t decided on every detail. Yet the experience is intimate: it unfolds within you.

We love this part of daydreaming. That feeling of discovering something the very moment it appears.

One might speak, poetically, of another part of oneself finding a voice. Of an imagination that one accompanies rather than entirely directs.

There is beauty in this freedom. An image can have value without becoming a useful idea, an explanation, or a project to be realized.

There are journeys for which the itinerary is known.

And those where we discover the landscape as we move forward.

The inner world leaves pages open.

The room remains. The armchair, the weight of the body, a sound behind the window. These markers surround the moment.

With eyes closed, however, perception can take another turn. Impressions follow one another, an intimate landscape is composed, and attention follows a new movement.

The word travel tells for us this encounter with what we do not yet know. It carries a desire to explore, not the guarantee of a destination.

We want to keep these two dimensions together: the freedom of discovery and the concrete presence of the place where we find ourselves.

Afterwards, the room finds its place in one's gaze again. The objects are there. The day continues.

An impression perhaps remains. A color, a question, a new curiosity. One might want to talk about it, or add nothing at all.

We are as interested in this transition as we are in the departure. In the way an experience finds a place in ordinary life.

Returning different is an aspiration that drives us. It can begin with a nuance in one's gaze. That cannot be commanded. Everyone chooses what they wish to keep from the journey, and what they let pass.

To bring this curiosity into everyday life, we chose to design a light object.

Dream Machine sits in a room. Its orientation can be adjusted. An app helps with selecting and controlling the sessions. The experience uses pulsed light, perceived with eyes closed.

The instrument gives the invitation a concrete form. A place to settle in. A moment you can choose. A sensory experience to be discovered according to the conditions of use.

The technique prepares for this encounter. Your sensitivity, your personal history, and the moment you are going through all play a part in how you experience it.

Light already changes our experience of places. A reflection catches the eye. A late afternoon transforms a room. The same surface reveals different colors.

With Dream Machine, we work with light as the material for a perceptive exploration with eyes closed.

We are passionate about this encounter: something precise happens within the instrument, while the perception belongs to a unique individual.

We can design the sequences, the electronics, the way a session is chosen. We cannot prepare in advance the intimate world that each person will encounter.

This space left for experience is part of the meaning of our work.

An object stays with us even when it is turned off. Its silhouette becomes part of the familiar landscape: near an armchair, on a table, in a place of one’s choosing.

The design of the Dream Machine, by Alix Videlier, contributes to this presence. It gives form to an invitation that will be revisited day after day.

We love this idea: an object can suggest a possibility without demanding it. The possibility of granting oneself a moment, letting messages wait, and visiting one's inner world.

The place we give to the instrument already says something about the time we wish to dedicate to it.

Two years of research and development have been devoted to Dream Machine. The structure, electronics, assembly, and light give reality to our intent.

Care lies in the details. A setting that one understands. An orientation that one adjusts. An explanation that answers the question one was asking.

We want technology to serve the quality of the moment. For the application to accompany choices with clarity. For one to be able to understand the object without needing to know everything that happens inside.

It is a design requirement, and a consideration for the person using it.

We craft an object of light.

Your journey is not pre-made.

It belongs to you.

Perception and neuroscience fuel our curiosity about states of consciousness. Reading, researching, asking questions: this exploration accompanies our work.

It requires distinguishing between what we know and what we contemplate. A hypothesis, a scientific result, a testimonial, and an internal investigation provide different types of information. We must present them as such.

We value this precision. It helps everyone understand what an assertion is based on.

The beauty of an experience can coexist with open questions. We want to continue learning, without making knowledge claim more than what it establishes.

For us, making exploration accessible means making its approach and benchmarks understandable. This ambition does not mean that every instrument is suitable for everyone.

Pulsed light has contraindications. The instructions and precautions must be read before any use; in case of doubt, the advice of a healthcare professional is necessary.

The experience varies from person to person and from moment to moment. Dream Machine promises neither healing nor a guaranteed psychological transformation. This manifesto does not constitute a user guide.

Starting, interrupting, giving up, choosing another path: these freedoms are part of the openness we champion.

Perception. Daydreaming. Imagination. States of consciousness. Inner journey.

These words come from different sensibilities. They offer several ways to approach an experience, to discuss it, to ask questions.

We want to foster a culture where these approaches can meet. Without mandatory beliefs, without a narrative to reproduce, without ranking experiences.

You can be sensitive to poetry and ask for precise explanations. Love discovering and remain cautious. Share at length or keep your journey intimate.

This diversity is an asset for the conversation we wish to open.

One person is searching for words. Another remembers an image. Someone describes a quiet moment, while another evokes a surprise.

Listening to these accounts is discovering how the same instrument can meet different sensibilities. Each testimony speaks of a personal experience; it does not predict that of the next person.

We want to welcome these words with attention, without making them mandatory.

The culture of the inner journey is also built through these exchanges. We share impressions, questions, and points of reference. We learn to leave experiences their singularity, and silence its place.

Design with care.

Clearly explain usage and limitations.

Present knowledge and stories precisely.

Respect the freedom to explore, stop, or choose otherwise.

Welcome diverse experiences.

Put technology at the service of deliberate time.

These commitments take shape in a feature, a sentence, an image, a response. They provide us with criteria for decision-making as Dream Machine grows.

We want the project’s purpose to remain visible in the way we bring it to life.

Just as we take the time to read.

Just as we listen to music without doing anything else.

Just as we walk to encounter a landscape.

We want to give the inner journey a simple and deliberate place in life.

A territory one remembers to visit.

There is still so much to encounter in this world that we carry everywhere with us. Movements of thought, nuances of emotion, images we did not know how to wait for.

We want to give it time. To grow a culture that welcomes this curiosity. To design instruments of light to contribute to it with care.

That is the purpose of Dream Machine.

The art of going there. The freedom to return. And the appetite to discover more.

Thank you for traveling a few pages with us.

Dream Machine
Paris · Since 2017