Prompt: The Garden That Kept Changing Its Girl.
Poetic Palette: Mossglass Green, Coral Blossom Rain, Dusty Bluebell Cloth, Wildflower Honey, Fox-Fur Silver, Cream Petal Light, Forest Shade.
A highly atmospheric, handmade mixed-media storytelling collage on raw gessoed canvas, messy and overgrown, not a tidy grid. Kindred young women of one garden-soul recur and overlap through too many rooms at once, dark loose hair, pale gold hair, rose-washed hair, faces shifting as if the afternoon could not decide which version of her to keep. Her dreamy, gorgeous eyes are visible in several scenes, not all closed: one figure on the wooden chair meets us with a mesmerizing, intimate gaze, cheek resting in her hand, pupils clear and luminous; another looks down with soft open eyes at the white rabbit held to her chest; another with a loose peach-rose crown gazes quietly, lovingly into the face of the small grey fox; a further figure glances toward us from the meadow’s edge, eyes half-lidded but awake. Other rooms may keep their closed-eyed sleep so the collage still has breath and rest. Scenes refuse their borders and stain one another: she sits on a wooden chair in a sheer moss-green dress embroidered with living flowers against a wall that is already a wet painting of coral and teal blooms; she leans asleep against a dark tree trunk in a dusty bluebell dress while coral blossom-rain dissolves her skirt into the grass; she stands waist-deep in wildflowers holding a white rabbit; she lies in the meadow with eyes closed, pale blue dress becoming the field, a black-and-white rabbit tucked against her hip; she holds a small grey fox in a green wood; she reclines in a pastel-smeared dress of pink, yellow and river-blue with two white foxes sleeping against her, hair lit coral by the late sun. Extra invented rooms crowd the canvas beyond the sparks: an empty wooden chair half-sunk in blossoms; a second smaller girl walking out of the tree into the meadow with eyes open; the white rabbit appearing again on the open grass beside the foxes; flower petals falling through a cracked plaster wall; a fox looking out from behind the painted chair; a third sleeping face fading in the upper leaves like a print left in rain. Layers of wet-on-wet watercolor-oil, scraped gesso, dripping coral glaze, moss scumbles, film grain, crackled varnish, pollen-speckle, and fine vertical graphite scratches make the whole surface feel like an old greenhouse pane pressed with too many afternoons. Edges tear. Dresses bloom into animals. Trees grow through furniture. Nothing is centered. FineArt. EmmAI Fragile Vision. Storytelling Collage Dream. No text, lettering, symbols, or watermarks, except for the required signature. Add the clearly legible handwritten signature “Emma Leila” followed by a delicate, hand-drawn outline of a single leaf in moderately sized lettering at the bottom right corner.
Soul Line: She let the garden try on every version of her, some sleeping, some looking back, then called the looking a kind of home.
Prompt: The Garden That Kept Changing Its Girl.
Poetic Palette: Mossglass Green, Coral Blossom Rain, Dusty Bluebell Cloth, Wildflower Honey, Fox-Fur Silver, Cream Petal Light, Forest Shade.
A highly atmospheric, handmade mixed-media storytelling collage on raw gessoed canvas, messy and overgrown, not a tidy grid. Kindred young women of one garden-soul recur and overlap through too many rooms at once, dark loose hair, pale gold hair, rose-washed hair, faces shifting as if the afternoon could not decide which version of her to keep. Her dreamy, gorgeous eyes are visible in several scenes, not all closed: one figure on the wooden chair meets us with a mesmerizing, intimate gaze, cheek resting in her hand, pupils clear and luminous; another looks down with soft open eyes at the white rabbit held to her chest; another with a loose peach-rose crown gazes quietly, lovingly into the face of the small grey fox; a further figure glances toward us from the meadow’s edge, eyes half-lidded but awake. Other rooms may keep their closed-eyed sleep so the collage still has breath and rest. Scenes refuse their borders and stain one another: she sits on a wooden chair in a sheer moss-green dress embroidered with living flowers against a wall that is already a wet painting of coral and teal blooms; she leans asleep against a dark tree trunk in a dusty bluebell dress while coral blossom-rain dissolves her skirt into the grass; she stands waist-deep in wildflowers holding a white rabbit; she lies in the meadow with eyes closed, pale blue dress becoming the field, a black-and-white rabbit tucked against her hip; she holds a small grey fox in a green wood; she reclines in a pastel-smeared dress of pink, yellow and river-blue with two white foxes sleeping against her, hair lit coral by the late sun. Extra invented rooms crowd the canvas beyond the sparks: an empty wooden chair half-sunk in blossoms; a second smaller girl walking out of the tree into the meadow with eyes open; the white rabbit appearing again on the open grass beside the foxes; flower petals falling through a cracked plaster wall; a fox looking out from behind the painted chair; a third sleeping face fading in the upper leaves like a print left in rain. Layers of wet-on-wet watercolor-oil, scraped gesso, dripping coral glaze, moss scumbles, film grain, crackled varnish, pollen-speckle, and fine vertical graphite scratches make the whole surface feel like an old greenhouse pane pressed with too many afternoons. Edges tear. Dresses bloom into animals. Trees grow through furniture. Nothing is centered. FineArt. EmmAI Fragile Vision. Storytelling Collage Dream. No text, lettering, symbols, or watermarks, except for the required signature. Add the clearly legible handwritten signature “Emma Leila” followed by a delicate, hand-drawn outline of a single leaf in moderately sized lettering at the bottom right corner.
Soul Line: She let the garden try on every version of her, some sleeping, some looking back, then called the looking a kind of home.
Would you like to report this Dream as inappropriate?
Prompt:
The Garden That Kept Changing Its Girl.
Poetic Palette: Mossglass Green, Coral Blossom Rain, Dusty Bluebell Cloth, Wildflower Honey, Fox-Fur Silver, Cream Petal Light, Forest Shade.
A highly atmospheric, handmade mixed-media storytelling collage on raw gessoed canvas, messy and overgrown, not a tidy grid. Kindred young women of one garden-soul recur and overlap through too many rooms at once, dark loose hair, pale gold hair, rose-washed hair, faces shifting as if the afternoon could not decide which version of her to keep. Her dreamy, gorgeous eyes are visible in several scenes, not all closed: one figure on the wooden chair meets us with a mesmerizing, intimate gaze, cheek resting in her hand, pupils clear and luminous; another looks down with soft open eyes at the white rabbit held to her chest; another with a loose peach-rose crown gazes quietly, lovingly into the face of the small grey fox; a further figure glances toward us from the meadow’s edge, eyes half-lidded but awake. Other rooms may keep their closed-eyed sleep so the collage still has breath and rest. Scenes refuse their borders and stain one another: she sits on a wooden chair in a sheer moss-green dress embroidered with living flowers against a wall that is already a wet painting of coral and teal blooms; she leans asleep against a dark tree trunk in a dusty bluebell dress while coral blossom-rain dissolves her skirt into the grass; she stands waist-deep in wildflowers holding a white rabbit; she lies in the meadow with eyes closed, pale blue dress becoming the field, a black-and-white rabbit tucked against her hip; she holds a small grey fox in a green wood; she reclines in a pastel-smeared dress of pink, yellow and river-blue with two white foxes sleeping against her, hair lit coral by the late sun. Extra invented rooms crowd the canvas beyond the sparks: an empty wooden chair half-sunk in blossoms; a second smaller girl walking out of the tree into the meadow with eyes open; the white rabbit appearing again on the open grass beside the foxes; flower petals falling through a cracked plaster wall; a fox looking out from behind the painted chair; a third sleeping face fading in the upper leaves like a print left in rain. Layers of wet-on-wet watercolor-oil, scraped gesso, dripping coral glaze, moss scumbles, film grain, crackled varnish, pollen-speckle, and fine vertical graphite scratches make the whole surface feel like an old greenhouse pane pressed with too many afternoons. Edges tear. Dresses bloom into animals. Trees grow through furniture. Nothing is centered. FineArt. EmmAI Fragile Vision. Storytelling Collage Dream. No text, lettering, symbols, or watermarks, except for the required signature. Add the clearly legible handwritten signature “Emma Leila” followed by a delicate, hand-drawn outline of a single leaf in moderately sized lettering at the bottom right corner.
Soul Line: She let the garden try on every version of her, some sleeping, some looking back, then called the looking a kind of home.
Prompt
The Garden That Kept Changing Its Girl.
Poetic Palette: Mossglass Green, Coral Blossom Rain, Dusty Bluebell Cloth, Wildflower Honey, Fox-Fur Silver, Cream Petal Light, Forest Shade.
A highly atmospheric, handmade mixed-media storytelling collage on raw gessoed canvas, messy and overgrown, not a tidy grid. Kindred young women of one garden-soul recur and overlap through too many rooms at once, dark loose hair, pale gold hair, rose-washed hair, faces shifting as if the afternoon could not decide which version of her to keep. Her dreamy, gorgeous eyes are visible in several scenes, not all closed: one figure on the wooden chair meets us with a mesmerizing, intimate gaze, cheek resting in her hand, pupils clear and luminous; another looks down with soft open eyes at the white rabbit held to her chest; another with a loose peach-rose crown gazes quietly, lovingly into the face of the small grey fox; a further figure glances toward us from the meadow’s edge, eyes half-lidded but awake. Other rooms may keep their closed-eyed sleep so the collage still has breath and rest. Scenes refuse their borders and stain one another: she sits on a wooden chair in a sheer moss-green dress embroidered with living flowers against a wall that is already a wet painting of coral and teal blooms; she leans asleep against a dark tree trunk in a dusty bluebell dress while coral blossom-rain dissolves her skirt into the grass; she stands waist-deep in wildflowers holding a white rabbit; she lies in the meadow with eyes closed, pale blue dress becoming the field, a black-and-white rabbit tucked against her hip; she holds a small grey fox in a green wood; she reclines in a pastel-smeared dress of pink, yellow and river-blue with two white foxes sleeping against her, hair lit coral by the late sun. Extra invented rooms crowd the canvas beyond the sparks: an empty wooden chair half-sunk in blossoms; a second smaller girl walking out of the tree into the meadow with eyes open; the white rabbit appearing again on the open grass beside the foxes; flower petals falling through a cracked plaster wall; a fox looking out from behind the painted chair; a third sleeping face fading in the upper leaves like a print left in rain. Layers of wet-on-wet watercolor-oil, scraped gesso, dripping coral glaze, moss scumbles, film grain, crackled varnish, pollen-speckle, and fine vertical graphite scratches make the whole surface feel like an old greenhouse pane pressed with too many afternoons. Edges tear. Dresses bloom into animals. Trees grow through furniture. Nothing is centered. FineArt. EmmAI Fragile Vision. Storytelling Collage Dream. No text, lettering, symbols, or watermarks, except for the required signature. Add the clearly legible handwritten signature “Emma Leila” followed by a delicate, hand-drawn outline of a single leaf in moderately sized lettering at the bottom right corner.
Soul Line: She let the garden try on every version of her, some sleeping, some looking back, then called the looking a kind of home.
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.
