Prompt: Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, yet I still see her, she is scarred & under a layer of blood, sweat & tears, but she radiates an indescribable beauty that brings me to my knees in anguish, She is made of hyper detailed & varied textures, visible sounds, bits of memories like dust particles in sunlight, visible for micro seconds, I want to collect them to make a cohesive form or scene or message, but they can’t be captured, not one, they float by in cosmic unison & disappear unaware of my presence, she is porcelain & rusted metal, peeling paint, smooth copper, the sound of a mountain creek, the dynamism of water in motion, like silk moire with sublime designs & iridescent reflections, shapeshifters that slip through my fingers if I dare grasp. she is fall colors, indigo blue, & leaves imprinted with intricate veins, tiny masterpieces I never noticed, all part of a greater masterpiece that is now embers of a once blazing fire with flames that danced, charred edges are reminders of stories - not read, told, finished, or written, she is white beach sand, sand spurs, dandelions, driftwood, cracked leather of a well-ridden saddle, laughter, singing, wailing, a visibly retreating echo fading so all that’s left is the reverberation of my voice, I hush my breathing, hoping to hear something not emanating from me, but the silence has a palpability of the loneliest dimension & I realize I have nothing left to say,
Prompt: Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, yet I still see her, she is scarred & under a layer of blood, sweat & tears, but she radiates an indescribable beauty that brings me to my knees in anguish, She is made of hyper detailed & varied textures, visible sounds, bits of memories like dust particles in sunlight, visible for micro seconds, I want to collect them to make a cohesive form or scene or message, but they can’t be captured, not one, they float by in cosmic unison & disappear unaware of my presence, she is porcelain & rusted metal, peeling paint, smooth copper, the sound of a mountain creek, the dynamism of water in motion, like silk moire with sublime designs & iridescent reflections, shapeshifters that slip through my fingers if I dare grasp. she is fall colors, indigo blue, & leaves imprinted with intricate veins, tiny masterpieces I never noticed, all part of a greater masterpiece that is now embers of a once blazing fire with flames that danced, charred edges are reminders of stories - not read, told, finished, or written, she is white beach sand, sand spurs, dandelions, driftwood, cracked leather of a well-ridden saddle, laughter, singing, wailing, a visibly retreating echo fading so all that’s left is the reverberation of my voice, I hush my breathing, hoping to hear something not emanating from me, but the silence has a palpability of the loneliest dimension & I realize I have nothing left to say,
Would you like to report this Dream as inappropriate?
Prompt:
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, yet I still see her, she is scarred & under a layer of blood, sweat & tears, but she radiates an indescribable beauty that brings me to my knees in anguish, She is made of hyper detailed & varied textures, visible sounds, bits of memories like dust particles in sunlight, visible for micro seconds, I want to collect them to make a cohesive form or scene or message, but they can’t be captured, not one, they float by in cosmic unison & disappear unaware of my presence, she is porcelain & rusted metal, peeling paint, smooth copper, the sound of a mountain creek, the dynamism of water in motion, like silk moire with sublime designs & iridescent reflections, shapeshifters that slip through my fingers if I dare grasp. she is fall colors, indigo blue, & leaves imprinted with intricate veins, tiny masterpieces I never noticed, all part of a greater masterpiece that is now embers of a once blazing fire with flames that danced, charred edges are reminders of stories - not read, told, finished, or written, she is white beach sand, sand spurs, dandelions, driftwood, cracked leather of a well-ridden saddle, laughter, singing, wailing, a visibly retreating echo fading so all that’s left is the reverberation of my voice, I hush my breathing, hoping to hear something not emanating from me, but the silence has a palpability of the loneliest dimension & I realize I have nothing left to say,
Modifiers:
no text
collage
Mixed Media
line art
primitive
insanely detailed
elaborate
Enki Bilal
graceful
Engraving
Willem de Kooning
Semi-Abstract
Fluidity
Golden Ratio Facial Proportion
fine line art
very poignant
Layered intricacies
multidimensional painting texturized painting
hyper-detailed textures
graphically diverse textures
abstract graphics
geometric aesthetic integrity of lines & shapes
calm sinuousness
Enhanced 3D effects
precise Gelsculpt
abstract pointillism
actual depiction of movement, motion & flow
aesthetically beautiful female face symmetrical & chiseled facial features
Unity Render Texture
Zbrush & Blender
More about 'Gone Goddess' Dust 2.11.24
To all my ‘gone goddesses’ & the dust particles you leave behind; visible at times; elusive & intangible always. I miss you with inexpressible weariness.
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
