Prompt: A man-shaped plant-creature, tall and lithe, formed entirely of woven vines, living roots, and supple green leaves that twist together into a vaguely human frame. His hair is made of long, flowing blades of grass, rippling down to his shoulders. His eyes are enormous hazelnuts, smooth, round, and deep brown, set within leafy sockets. His fingernails are tiny, polished acorns. His clothing is not sewn but grown, a tunic and trousers of fresh green leaves, overlapping like scales, perfectly fitted, rustling softly with each breath. His boots are seamless bark, molded around his legs like natural armor, dark and textured with moss. Around him, butterflies of every hue swirl and dance, alighting briefly upon his shoulders, his outstretched fingers, even his cheek. Their delicate wings shimmer against the sunlight that filters through the forest canopy. The air hums faintly with the sound of life, and tiny motes of pollen drift like gold dust.But beneath his beauty lies decay — a deep fissure splits his left cheek and temple, a jagged wound that continues across the crown of his head. From within it, the vines are brown and brittle, their once-green sap dried to dust. The edges of the crack pulse faintly, as if life and death wrestle there for dominance. A few dead leaves cling to the withered vines, trembling in the breeze, whispering of corruption creeping inward. Behind him, the forest seems to bend toward his presence, as if recognizing one of its own or perhaps mourning what he’s becoming. The atmosphere is both enchanted and tragic, filled with the tension of growth and rot, vitality and ruin.
Prompt: A man-shaped plant-creature, tall and lithe, formed entirely of woven vines, living roots, and supple green leaves that twist together into a vaguely human frame. His hair is made of long, flowing blades of grass, rippling down to his shoulders. His eyes are enormous hazelnuts, smooth, round, and deep brown, set within leafy sockets. His fingernails are tiny, polished acorns. His clothing is not sewn but grown, a tunic and trousers of fresh green leaves, overlapping like scales, perfectly fitted, rustling softly with each breath. His boots are seamless bark, molded around his legs like natural armor, dark and textured with moss. Around him, butterflies of every hue swirl and dance, alighting briefly upon his shoulders, his outstretched fingers, even his cheek. Their delicate wings shimmer against the sunlight that filters through the forest canopy. The air hums faintly with the sound of life, and tiny motes of pollen drift like gold dust.But beneath his beauty lies decay — a deep fissure splits his left cheek and temple, a jagged wound that continues across the crown of his head. From within it, the vines are brown and brittle, their once-green sap dried to dust. The edges of the crack pulse faintly, as if life and death wrestle there for dominance. A few dead leaves cling to the withered vines, trembling in the breeze, whispering of corruption creeping inward. Behind him, the forest seems to bend toward his presence, as if recognizing one of its own or perhaps mourning what he’s becoming. The atmosphere is both enchanted and tragic, filled with the tension of growth and rot, vitality and ruin.
Would you like to report this Dream as inappropriate?
Prompt:
A man-shaped plant-creature, tall and lithe, formed entirely of woven vines, living roots, and supple green leaves that twist together into a vaguely human frame. His hair is made of long, flowing blades of grass, rippling down to his shoulders. His eyes are enormous hazelnuts, smooth, round, and deep brown, set within leafy sockets. His fingernails are tiny, polished acorns. His clothing is not sewn but grown, a tunic and trousers of fresh green leaves, overlapping like scales, perfectly fitted, rustling softly with each breath. His boots are seamless bark, molded around his legs like natural armor, dark and textured with moss. Around him, butterflies of every hue swirl and dance, alighting briefly upon his shoulders, his outstretched fingers, even his cheek. Their delicate wings shimmer against the sunlight that filters through the forest canopy. The air hums faintly with the sound of life, and tiny motes of pollen drift like gold dust.But beneath his beauty lies decay — a deep fissure splits his left cheek and temple, a jagged wound that continues across the crown of his head. From within it, the vines are brown and brittle, their once-green sap dried to dust. The edges of the crack pulse faintly, as if life and death wrestle there for dominance. A few dead leaves cling to the withered vines, trembling in the breeze, whispering of corruption creeping inward. Behind him, the forest seems to bend toward his presence, as if recognizing one of its own or perhaps mourning what he’s becoming. The atmosphere is both enchanted and tragic, filled with the tension of growth and rot, vitality and ruin.
Modifiers:
Nikon D850
elegant
extremely detailed
fantasy
intricate
8k
masterpiece
ultra detailed
high definition
colourful
magic
More about Someshta 2
A mystical figure made of leaves and vines stands in an enchanting forest, surrounded by colorful butterflies. Her hair resembles foliage, embodying the spirit of nature.
Dream Level: is increased each time when you "Go Deeper" into the dream. Each new level is harder to achieve and
takes more iterations than the one before.
Rare Deep Dream: is any dream which went deeper than level 6.
Deep Dream
You cannot go deeper into someone else's dream. You must create your own.
Deep Dream
Currently going deeper is available only for Deep Dreams.
Artist
