What just appeared on my glasses?

Everything DreamLayer shows you is a card: a small round panel that slides in from the edge of your day-ring, stays a few seconds, and files itself away. Cards never stack, never nag, and never cover your view — one at a time, most important first.

This is the glance guide: what each card means and why it showed up. (The engineering-level detail on every card lives in the technical gallery.)

The everyday ones

	The quiet mark. The glasses are on and not listening. This is what "idle" looks like.
	It's listening. You woke the Oracle; the bars move with your voice.
	Thinking. Your question is being answered.
	Kept. The moment you just saved is safely remembered.
	The Oracle answering you, or confirming something it just did.

Memory coming back to you

	Where your thing is. The little map shows you (the dot at the bottom), the place, and the object — with how sure it is and when it last saw it.
	A promise. Who, what, and when — either one you asked about, or one it just heard you make.
	A promise slipping. The bar on the left is draining; the promise is getting old. It surfaces before you break it, not after.
	This place holds a memory. You arrived somewhere, and something you left or noted here came back with you.
	Your morning brief. The day ahead, in two sentences.
	Rewinding. One moment of your day; scrub back and forth through them.

People

	Someone you know is here. Name, one line of why they matter right now ("owes you the lease").
	Your history with them. When you last met and what you two tend to talk about. Only for people you chose to save — never strangers.

Conversation helpers

	Live captions. What was just said, written at the edge.
	Translation. Speech or text in another language, rendered in yours.
	"On the tip of your tongue." Someone asked a question; here is the answer, silently, for you to say.
	The fact-checker spoke. Green means verified, amber means check this, red means they contradicted themselves. Full story in The fact-checker.
	A read on delivery. The ring shows how the analysis went around its nine steps — smooth arcs read as steady, torn gaps as strained. It only judges people it knows well.
	"Listen!" — a tap on the shoulder. The one thing worth telling you right now: you are about to be late, you owe the person in front of you, you are walking away from your stuff. Amber means urgent.

Privacy — deliberately loud

These cards break the calm on purpose: no soft entrance, no gentle glow. They slam in, because you should never be unsure about privacy.

	Fully off. Deaf and blind until you hold the button again.
	Forgotten. The last capture is gone, as you asked.
	A no-record place. You marked this place private; nothing records here.
	Your call. Something new wants access; nothing proceeds until you say so.

The odd ones out

	"That's not what you said before." Your own plan changed — a gentle before-versus-now nudge.
	Something failed. One plain sentence about what.
	An honest shrug. It does not know, and it says so rather than guessing.
	A memory echo. In Dream Mode, a pale note pinned to the place you are standing.
	Dream Mode poetry. Six words for what this moment feels like. Double-tap enters and leaves this mode.