Prompt: Among the charred, dead ruins of a once majestic city, giant glowing letters rise up — “KHARKOV”. They are like a monument, like a wall of memory carved out of light, like a stone heart pulsating in the darkness. Each letter is not just a sign, but a piece of life imprinted in the depths of destruction. Architectural drawings, contours of buildings, windows, shadows, echoes of a peaceful life that was once here appear on their surface. The light inside the letters is neither electric nor magical, it seems to be born from the very pain of the earth, from burning memory. The city around is a labyrinth of broken buildings. Ash walls gape with holes, like open wounds. The frames of houses are exposed, arches are collapsed, rusty bars and fragments of ceilings stick out above the roofs. The fire slowly devours the lower floors, creating an ominous flame in the empty eye sockets of the windows. Mountains of rubble, broken boards, and scrap metal stretch along the ground — chaos that has become a street. In the center is the silhouette of a lonely man, tiny against the backdrop of these giant letters, but not broken. He stands as a living point of resistance, as a voice among silent walls. In the foreground are two figures, like witnesses to the catastrophe. Their silhouettes are silent but eloquent. They could be reporters, soldiers, or simply residents trying to preserve, at least with a glance, what was their home. Around them are mangled cars, ashes, fire, blackness, cold. The sky is heavy, dark blue, without stars, with a slight light reflection in the center of the composition, where hope still smolders. The composition conveys the epic silence after the blow, the moment when time stands still. This is not just a scene of destruction — it is a visual hymn to resilience. The letters “KHARKOV” seem to break through death and say: the city is alive. It stands, if not in body, then in spirit. It burns, but does not go out. This is a frame from a documentary poem about the struggle, where light is not a decorative element, but a symbol of eternal resistance. This is a monument not to victory, but to dignity. And everyone who looks at it feels: Kharkov is not broken. Tending on ArtStation, IMAX Cinematic - 1080hd, OLED8K, HDR, Super HDR.
Prompt: Among the charred, dead ruins of a once majestic city, giant glowing letters rise up — “KHARKOV”. They are like a monument, like a wall of memory carved out of light, like a stone heart pulsating in the darkness. Each letter is not just a sign, but a piece of life imprinted in the depths of destruction. Architectural drawings, contours of buildings, windows, shadows, echoes of a peaceful life that was once here appear on their surface. The light inside the letters is neither electric nor magical, it seems to be born from the very pain of the earth, from burning memory. The city around is a labyrinth of broken buildings. Ash walls gape with holes, like open wounds. The frames of houses are exposed, arches are collapsed, rusty bars and fragments of ceilings stick out above the roofs. The fire slowly devours the lower floors, creating an ominous flame in the empty eye sockets of the windows. Mountains of rubble, broken boards, and scrap metal stretch along the ground — chaos that has become a street. In the center is the silhouette of a lonely man, tiny against the backdrop of these giant letters, but not broken. He stands as a living point of resistance, as a voice among silent walls. In the foreground are two figures, like witnesses to the catastrophe. Their silhouettes are silent but eloquent. They could be reporters, soldiers, or simply residents trying to preserve, at least with a glance, what was their home. Around them are mangled cars, ashes, fire, blackness, cold. The sky is heavy, dark blue, without stars, with a slight light reflection in the center of the composition, where hope still smolders. The composition conveys the epic silence after the blow, the moment when time stands still. This is not just a scene of destruction — it is a visual hymn to resilience. The letters “KHARKOV” seem to break through death and say: the city is alive. It stands, if not in body, then in spirit. It burns, but does not go out. This is a frame from a documentary poem about the struggle, where light is not a decorative element, but a symbol of eternal resistance. This is a monument not to victory, but to dignity. And everyone who looks at it feels: Kharkov is not broken. Tending on ArtStation, IMAX Cinematic - 1080hd, OLED8K, HDR, Super HDR.
Would you like to report this Dream as inappropriate?
Prompt:
Among the charred, dead ruins of a once majestic city, giant glowing letters rise up — “KHARKOV”. They are like a monument, like a wall of memory carved out of light, like a stone heart pulsating in the darkness. Each letter is not just a sign, but a piece of life imprinted in the depths of destruction. Architectural drawings, contours of buildings, windows, shadows, echoes of a peaceful life that was once here appear on their surface. The light inside the letters is neither electric nor magical, it seems to be born from the very pain of the earth, from burning memory. The city around is a labyrinth of broken buildings. Ash walls gape with holes, like open wounds. The frames of houses are exposed, arches are collapsed, rusty bars and fragments of ceilings stick out above the roofs. The fire slowly devours the lower floors, creating an ominous flame in the empty eye sockets of the windows. Mountains of rubble, broken boards, and scrap metal stretch along the ground — chaos that has become a street. In the center is the silhouette of a lonely man, tiny against the backdrop of these giant letters, but not broken. He stands as a living point of resistance, as a voice among silent walls. In the foreground are two figures, like witnesses to the catastrophe. Their silhouettes are silent but eloquent. They could be reporters, soldiers, or simply residents trying to preserve, at least with a glance, what was their home. Around them are mangled cars, ashes, fire, blackness, cold. The sky is heavy, dark blue, without stars, with a slight light reflection in the center of the composition, where hope still smolders. The composition conveys the epic silence after the blow, the moment when time stands still. This is not just a scene of destruction — it is a visual hymn to resilience. The letters “KHARKOV” seem to break through death and say: the city is alive. It stands, if not in body, then in spirit. It burns, but does not go out. This is a frame from a documentary poem about the struggle, where light is not a decorative element, but a symbol of eternal resistance. This is a monument not to victory, but to dignity. And everyone who looks at it feels: Kharkov is not broken. Tending on ArtStation, IMAX Cinematic - 1080hd, OLED8K, HDR, Super HDR.
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
