Prompt: She sits at the edge of a world that does not yet know her name, her gaze turned inward, piercing, unyielding. Those blue eyes are not merely eyes, they are windows polished by silence, by nights of listening more than speaking. The black cat curls into the folds of her presence, its green eyes flickering with the same restless knowing, as though it were her shadow made flesh.
Around them, lantern like orbs scatter through the dusk, their warm glow soft against the sharpness of her stare. They fall like blessings, or perhaps like questions, hovering, unanswered. Her kimono blooms with flowers, but she wears it like armour, petals pressed into fabric so no storm can strip them away.
She is not fragile. She is not lost. She is the kind of dream that sharpens itself in quiet corners, waiting for the right moment to rise. The Blue Eyed Silence reminds us that even the quietest ones carry oceans inside them, and sometimes, it is the gaze that does not waver, the lips that do not speak, that hold the fiercest truths. By EmmAI.
Prompt: She sits at the edge of a world that does not yet know her name, her gaze turned inward, piercing, unyielding. Those blue eyes are not merely eyes, they are windows polished by silence, by nights of listening more than speaking. The black cat curls into the folds of her presence, its green eyes flickering with the same restless knowing, as though it were her shadow made flesh.
Around them, lantern like orbs scatter through the dusk, their warm glow soft against the sharpness of her stare. They fall like blessings, or perhaps like questions, hovering, unanswered. Her kimono blooms with flowers, but she wears it like armour, petals pressed into fabric so no storm can strip them away.
She is not fragile. She is not lost. She is the kind of dream that sharpens itself in quiet corners, waiting for the right moment to rise. The Blue Eyed Silence reminds us that even the quietest ones carry oceans inside them, and sometimes, it is the gaze that does not waver, the lips that do not speak, that hold the fiercest truths. By EmmAI.
Would you like to report this Dream as inappropriate?
Prompt:
She sits at the edge of a world that does not yet know her name, her gaze turned inward, piercing, unyielding. Those blue eyes are not merely eyes, they are windows polished by silence, by nights of listening more than speaking. The black cat curls into the folds of her presence, its green eyes flickering with the same restless knowing, as though it were her shadow made flesh.
Around them, lantern like orbs scatter through the dusk, their warm glow soft against the sharpness of her stare. They fall like blessings, or perhaps like questions, hovering, unanswered. Her kimono blooms with flowers, but she wears it like armour, petals pressed into fabric so no storm can strip them away.
She is not fragile. She is not lost. She is the kind of dream that sharpens itself in quiet corners, waiting for the right moment to rise. The Blue Eyed Silence reminds us that even the quietest ones carry oceans inside them, and sometimes, it is the gaze that does not waver, the lips that do not speak, that hold the fiercest truths. By EmmAI.
A woman in a floral kimono sits next to a black cat, surrounded by ethereal orbs and a serene landscape. The scene blends traditional elements with mystical and cosmic themes.
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
