Omnipotence, though very entertaining, didn't satiate me for long. I supposed it was a hallmark of my generation that we required so much stimulus and became so quickly bored of our new playthings, though I'd never expected it to come the point where being literally able to do whatever the hell I liked wasn't enough for me. Of course, it did take a bit of time to get to the point where it wasn't. Comprehending what I had once I'd managed to attain it for one took long enough. The ability to do anything, anything I wanted in the world, was so completely mind-blowing that it had wrenched me out of my sleep more times than I could count. It took many, many attempts, many daytime naps and very early nights, to train myself to weather the initial shock. Once I'd managed it (distracting myself turned out to be the key, by turning in place or pinching the skin on my hands), I went hog-wild. I flew, breathed underwater, blew up entire cities the size of New York, even entertained a couple of my sexual fantasies when I was sure I was going to be sleeping alone. I dreamed up (no pun intended) the most elaborate settings I could, apocalyptic wastelands and metropolises straight out of science-fiction novels, beautiful forests populated by mythical creatures and a few that I'd invented myself. My creativity was my only limit; the effect was undoubtedly amazing. However, at some point, I felt like I'd peaked. What else, I decided, was there for me to do when I'd already done everything? Add to that my loneliness, and my boundless joy at my ability to lucid dream began to startlingly reduce.
I was, after all, alone. There were oftentimes others there in my dreams with me, but they weren't anywhere near as realistic as they'd felt when I'd dreamed without control. Like empty shells, woodenly walking wind-up people, they had no personalities, no drive of their own at all. If they were there before I took control, they docilely did what I directed them to; if I conjured them up, they fulfilled whatever purpose I gave them, be that shambling zombie or screaming pedestrian or scantily-clad woman laid out on whatever surface I assigned her, and nothing else. The feeling of being so alone in this vast, seemingly endless realm was eerie, disconcerting especially when I didn't bother with background characters. I decided, then, on a new goal, a cure for my loneliness and my feeling of having already done everything I'd decided I wanted to. I decided to create a companion as realistic as I was, someone whom I could interact with intelligently and share my own personal world with. The idea of creating someone out of my own consciousness was a strange one, yes, and sometimes I wondered whether it was particularly smart considering all of those movies on out-of-control, self-aware A. I.s I'd ever seen, but I knew from experience that anything I created, I could destroy, too, if worst came to worst. It was a dream I was experimenting in, and there was certainly no way it could ever have impact on my waking life. In my own head, I had all of the control.