International financial institutions decided to establish dreams as the currency of exchange in commercial relations. By Carlos del Puente

International financial institutions decided to establish dreams as the currency of exchange in commercial relations. The decision, made at a secret summit in a floating building above the Sea of Sighs, was announced to the world through a message conveyed by helium balloons that recited rhymed verses. People were confused but intrigued, wondering what it would be like to live in a world where dreams were valued more than gold.

In the city of Somnium, the first oniric financial center, banks transformed into enormous crystal cathedrals where dreams were stored in colored bottles. Each bottle contained an ethereal essence that shone according to the intensity of the dream: happy dreams were golden, sad ones blue, and surreal ones featured a constantly changing rainbow, like an elephant playing the violin under a candy rain.

The main characters of this story were as strange as the world they inhabited. There was Don Oneiric, a large man with a spiral-growing beard and a hat projecting shadows of sleeping cats. He was the greatest collector of dreams, specializing in those involving trains that never reached their destination. Then there was Luna Metaphora, a woman whose skin changed color according to the mood of the dreams she touched. She acted as an intermediary, helping people sell their dreams for material goods like opera-singing teapots or self-walking shoes.

One day, a trader named Efraín Desvarío arrived in Somnium with a dream so strange that no one could understand it. In his dream, fish flew over cities made of gelatin, and words turned into butterflies escaping from books. Don Oneiric examined it closely, murmuring, "This dream is so surreal that it could be worth a fortune, but it could also be completely useless." Luna Metaphora, with her skin turning a vibrant green, suggested auctioning it in the Market of Chimeras, where dreams were exchanged for abstract ideas like the feeling of nostalgia or the sound of silence.

The auction was a chaotic event. Bidders, creatures half-human and half-object (like a man with a clock head and a woman with umbrella arms), shouted bids that sounded like children's laughter. Finally, Efraín's dream was acquired by The Collector of Impossibilities, a being whose existence was a paradox: invisible yet visible to all. In exchange, Efraín received a box containing the echo of a sigh, said to calm any emotional storm.

Over time, the oniric financial system collapsed under its own absurdity. Dreams, being intangible and subjective, lost value quickly. A sugar-candy desert dream could be worth millions one day and nothing the next. People started accumulating dreams in cellars and attics, hoping for value increase, but they only filled their houses with dusty bottles emitting incomprehensible whispers.

In the end, international financial institutions abandoned the experiment, returning to traditional currency. However, the world was forever changed. People learned to value their dreams in a new way, though they no longer had commercial value, they remained the most prized possession in the intimacy of their nights.

And so, in a world where fish fly and words become butterflies, the economy of dreams vanished like a cloud, leaving a legacy of absurdity and beauty never to be forgotten.

Post-collapse, the world entered an era of surreal melancholy. The crystal cathedrals in Somnium became museums where people contemplated forgotten dream bottles that now only emitted intermittent flashes like dying fireflies. Don Oneiric, with his now gray and dull spiral beard, became the curator, explaining how dreams once were the most valuable currency.

Luna Metaphora, with her skin now a neutral grayish tone, dedicated herself to oneiric therapy, helping people interpret their dreams to understand their deep meaning, not to sell them. She opened a clinic floating over an ink river, with walls covered in murals changing according to patients' dreams. She listened to stories of people dreaming of melted clock forests or skies full of blinking eyes.

Efraín Desvarío became a perpetual traveler, collecting dreams to preserve them, not to sell. He traveled to remote places like the Valley of Whispering Mirrors, where reflections had their own life, and the Mountain of Singing Winds, where gusts sang ancient melodies. He kept the shared dreams in an illustrated diary with watercolor paintings changing color with light.

The Collector of Impossibilities disappeared without a trace. Some say he merged with reality's fabric, becoming an abstract idea floating in the air. Others believe he enclosed himself in an eternal dream where paradoxes and impossibilities coexisted harmoniously. His legacy remained in a book titled "The Manual of Impossible Dreams," appearing mysteriously in libraries of those who needed it most.

Over time, people realized that although dreams no longer had monetary value, they were essential to their existence. Dreams became a universal language, a way to connect beyond words. In city squares, gatherings shared their dreams aloud, creating a symphony of stories resonating like a collective song.

In Somnium, the Chimera Market transformed into an annual festival called "The Night of Living Dreams." During one night, streets filled with artists, musicians, and narrators interpreting people's dreams creatively. There were smoke sculptures representing flight dreams, theater plays with actors floating to recreate freedom dreams, and poems writing themselves on paper that shone in the dark.

Thus, in a world where dreams were once currency and later relics, humanity found a new way to value them. Dreams were no longer bought or sold but shared, celebrated, and became part of the cultural fabric. Don Oneiric, Luna Metaphora, and Efraín Desvarío ensured the legacy of lost dreams was never forgotten.

And at night, when the moon shone over cities and fields, people closed their eyes and dreamed, knowing that even if their dreams had no price, they were the most valuable gift they could offer the world.

With time, the world began to blur at the edges, like a painting to which water was added until the colors danced in a liquid swirl. Mountains turned into petrified waves whispering secrets to the sky, and rivers flowed upwards, carrying fish singing songs in ancient languages. The air smelled of fresh ink and nostalgia, as if someone were writing a never-ending story.

Don Oneiric, now more of a spirit than a man, fused with the inverted clock forest. His starry beard detached from his face and spread across the sky, forming constellations telling stories of forgotten dreams. The clocks, feeling his absence, began to mark the hour of eternity, a time that neither advanced nor retreated, but simply existed, like a suspended sigh.

Luna Metaphora, whose skin was now a constantly changing canvas, founded "The Archive of Infinite Imagination," a place where dreams not only were woven into tapestries but became alternative realities. Visitors could enter others' dreams and experience them as their own. One day, a child entered a dream where cats were philosophers debating the meaning of shadows, and another day, an elderly woman immersed herself in a dream where stars were seeds growing in floating gardens.

Efraín Desvarío, now a living legend, discovered a new place called "The Desert of Lost Ideas." It was a vast landscape of golden sand where abandoned ideas took physical form. There were castles made of unfinished thoughts, rivers of ink flowing with forgotten words, and trees whose leaves were fragments of unwritten songs. Efraín, with his box containing the echo of a sigh, began collecting these ideas and returning them to the world, like a sower of inspirations.

The Collector of Impossibilities, though invisible, continued to leave traces of his existence in increasingly absurd forms. One day, a piano appeared in the center of Somnium that played melodies only hearts broken could hear. The keys, made of solidified tears, emitted notes that healed emotional wounds of those who listened. The piano became a place of healing, where people came to cry, laugh, and remember that even the impossible could be beautiful.

In "The Night of Living Dreams," a new tradition was introduced: "The Dance of Forgotten Memories." People gathered in a circular square, dancing to music existing only in their minds. Their movements created abstract figures in the air, like clouds raining memories or mirrors reflecting pure emotions. The dance ended with a collective embrace, making the sky fill with shooting stars, each representing a shared dream.

Thus, in a world where dreams and reality intertwined like threads in an infinite tapestry, humanity learned to live in a state of perpetual awe. Dreams were no longer something to possess or exchange but to share, explore, and celebrate. Don Oneiric, Luna Metaphora, and Efraín Desvarío, now legendary figures, continued to inspire new generations to dream without limits, to embrace the absurd, and to find beauty in the impossible.

The world became a kaleidoscope of overlapping realities, experiencing a new phenomenon: dreams began to fuse with everyday objects, bringing to life a universe where everything had an oniric soul. Chairs whispered stories of interrupted rests, tea cups told legends of unrequited love, and mirrors reflected not only faces but also the deepest desires of those who looked into them.

Luna Metaphora, whose skin was now a map of moving constellations, founded "The Theater of Overflowing Imagination," a place where dreams were performed in theatrical plays breaking the laws of physics and logic. The plays were performed by actors with no defined shape, changing appearance according to the audience's mood. One day, a play about an impossible love between a cloud and a mountain made the audience cry tears that turned into butterflies, and another day, a play about a journey on a train that never reached its destination made the audience laugh until their laughs became shooting stars.

Efraín Desvarío, now an interdimensional traveler, discovered a new place called "The Garden of Blossoming Paradoxes." It was a garden where flowers grew upside down, with roots in the air and petals buried in the earth. Each flower was a living paradox: there were roses that smelled of silence, daisies that sang songs in reverse, and tulips that changed color according to the viewer's mood. Efraín, with his box containing the echo of a sigh, began watering the flowers with dreams, making them grow to touch the sky and form a bridge between the world of dreams and reality.

The Collector of Impossibilities, though invisible, continued to leave traces of his existence in ever more absurd forms. One day, an hourglass appeared in the center of Somnium that didn't measure time but the intensity of dreams. The sand, made of light particles, flowed up and down simultaneously, creating an infinite loop that hypnotized those who watched it. The hourglass became a place of meditation, where people came to connect with their deepest dreams and remember that even the impossible could be real.

And so, in a whirlpool of realities intertwining like colorful snakes in an endless dance, the world experienced a new phenomenon: dreams began to materialize into physical forms, creating objects defying all logic. Clouds turned into cotton candy raining candies, rivers flowed with ink writing poems on their banks, and mountains transformed into sleeping giants snoring ancient melodies.

By Carlos del Puente