Prompt: Grotesque dark comedy — hyper-detailed oil painting, chaotic studio realism meets surreal absurdity.
A cluttered artist’s garret: canvases stacked like firewood, tubes of paint exploded on the floor, coffee cups growing mold, a beret perched crookedly over a blood-stained bandage on the painter’s head. He sits hunched before a vintage film projector, its beam casting a flickering image onto a large sheet-covered wall.
Projected scene (the “memory”):
The Artist — wild-eyed, beret askew, in a paint-splattered smock — stands triumphantly before his finished portrait of the Duchess.
With theatrical flourish, he dunks the canvas into a massive copper tub of water. Ink and pigment bleed instantly — eyes melt, lips dissolve, jewels run like tears.
He throws his arms wide, ecstatic: “Behold! Aqua-Portraiture!”
The Duchess — towering, otherworldly, draped in glam-minimalist haute couture: liquid silver dress that clings like mercury, no jewelry except a single black pearl earring, face elongated like Modigliani but with cyberpunk cheekbones, hair shaved on one side, the other braided with fiber-optic threads. Her expression: glacial disdain.
In her hand — an amber cigarette holder longer than her forearm, wielded like a dueling cane.
Mid-swing: she cracks him across the skull. His beret flies off. Stars explode around his head (literally — tiny painted stars float in the air).
Back in the present:
The artist watches this replay, wincing, fingers gently probing his bandaged temple. On his easel: a new blank canvas. On the floor beside it: a bucket of water, ominously full.
Studio details:
A sign taped to the wall: “NO MORE WATER. — Management”
A half-eaten sandwich labeled “Inspiration (Do Not Touch)”
In the corner: a small shrine — the ruined portrait, now dried, framed under glass, caption: “Martyr of Innovation”
Style: Francis Bacon’s distortion × David Hockney’s color × Soviet kitchen-sink realism. Mood: manic, tragic, hilariously self-aware. Lighting: harsh overhead bulb + projector glow. No logos.
Prompt: Grotesque dark comedy — hyper-detailed oil painting, chaotic studio realism meets surreal absurdity.
A cluttered artist’s garret: canvases stacked like firewood, tubes of paint exploded on the floor, coffee cups growing mold, a beret perched crookedly over a blood-stained bandage on the painter’s head. He sits hunched before a vintage film projector, its beam casting a flickering image onto a large sheet-covered wall.
Projected scene (the “memory”):
The Artist — wild-eyed, beret askew, in a paint-splattered smock — stands triumphantly before his finished portrait of the Duchess.
With theatrical flourish, he dunks the canvas into a massive copper tub of water. Ink and pigment bleed instantly — eyes melt, lips dissolve, jewels run like tears.
He throws his arms wide, ecstatic: “Behold! Aqua-Portraiture!”
The Duchess — towering, otherworldly, draped in glam-minimalist haute couture: liquid silver dress that clings like mercury, no jewelry except a single black pearl earring, face elongated like Modigliani but with cyberpunk cheekbones, hair shaved on one side, the other braided with fiber-optic threads. Her expression: glacial disdain.
In her hand — an amber cigarette holder longer than her forearm, wielded like a dueling cane.
Mid-swing: she cracks him across the skull. His beret flies off. Stars explode around his head (literally — tiny painted stars float in the air).
Back in the present:
The artist watches this replay, wincing, fingers gently probing his bandaged temple. On his easel: a new blank canvas. On the floor beside it: a bucket of water, ominously full.
Studio details:
A sign taped to the wall: “NO MORE WATER. — Management”
A half-eaten sandwich labeled “Inspiration (Do Not Touch)”
In the corner: a small shrine — the ruined portrait, now dried, framed under glass, caption: “Martyr of Innovation”
Style: Francis Bacon’s distortion × David Hockney’s color × Soviet kitchen-sink realism. Mood: manic, tragic, hilariously self-aware. Lighting: harsh overhead bulb + projector glow. No logos.
Would you like to report this Dream as inappropriate?
Prompt:
Grotesque dark comedy — hyper-detailed oil painting, chaotic studio realism meets surreal absurdity.
A cluttered artist’s garret: canvases stacked like firewood, tubes of paint exploded on the floor, coffee cups growing mold, a beret perched crookedly over a blood-stained bandage on the painter’s head. He sits hunched before a vintage film projector, its beam casting a flickering image onto a large sheet-covered wall.
Projected scene (the “memory”):
The Artist — wild-eyed, beret askew, in a paint-splattered smock — stands triumphantly before his finished portrait of the Duchess.
With theatrical flourish, he dunks the canvas into a massive copper tub of water. Ink and pigment bleed instantly — eyes melt, lips dissolve, jewels run like tears.
He throws his arms wide, ecstatic: “Behold! Aqua-Portraiture!”
The Duchess — towering, otherworldly, draped in glam-minimalist haute couture: liquid silver dress that clings like mercury, no jewelry except a single black pearl earring, face elongated like Modigliani but with cyberpunk cheekbones, hair shaved on one side, the other braided with fiber-optic threads. Her expression: glacial disdain.
In her hand — an amber cigarette holder longer than her forearm, wielded like a dueling cane.
Mid-swing: she cracks him across the skull. His beret flies off. Stars explode around his head (literally — tiny painted stars float in the air).
Back in the present:
The artist watches this replay, wincing, fingers gently probing his bandaged temple. On his easel: a new blank canvas. On the floor beside it: a bucket of water, ominously full.
Studio details:
A sign taped to the wall: “NO MORE WATER. — Management”
A half-eaten sandwich labeled “Inspiration (Do Not Touch)”
In the corner: a small shrine — the ruined portrait, now dried, framed under glass, caption: “Martyr of Innovation”
Style: Francis Bacon’s distortion × David Hockney’s color × Soviet kitchen-sink realism. Mood: manic, tragic, hilariously self-aware. Lighting: harsh overhead bulb + projector glow. No logos.
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
