Prompt: Fog City of the Aeon Striders" – Mystical Sci-Fi, Urban Mist, Parallel Realities
Imagine a city perpetually cloaked in thick, opalescent fog that twists between dimensions. The buildings are both ancient and futuristic — obsidian temples covered in moss and neon signs, skyscrapers with ivy and alien circuitry embedded in their walls. Streets appear and disappear as the fog pulses, revealing new layers of reality, like flipping pages in a cosmic diary. Lights flicker not from bulbs, but from thought-responsive crystals embedded in the walls. The air tastes like ozone and memory.
Wandering the streets are the Aeon Striders — tall, cloaked beings with halos made of rings, each ring a floating reality they traverse. Their eyes glow like dying stars, and their staffs hum with dimensional resonance. Every step they take leaves behind fractal footprints that echo into eternity. Time works differently in this city: some alleys run backward, some plazas exist only when no one is looking. Marketplaces trade in ideas, emotions, and dreams, not goods. Cathedrals built for forgotten gods serve now as data hubs, where monks of light transcribe waves of time into holy scripts.
Prompt: Fog City of the Aeon Striders" – Mystical Sci-Fi, Urban Mist, Parallel Realities
Imagine a city perpetually cloaked in thick, opalescent fog that twists between dimensions. The buildings are both ancient and futuristic — obsidian temples covered in moss and neon signs, skyscrapers with ivy and alien circuitry embedded in their walls. Streets appear and disappear as the fog pulses, revealing new layers of reality, like flipping pages in a cosmic diary. Lights flicker not from bulbs, but from thought-responsive crystals embedded in the walls. The air tastes like ozone and memory.
Wandering the streets are the Aeon Striders — tall, cloaked beings with halos made of rings, each ring a floating reality they traverse. Their eyes glow like dying stars, and their staffs hum with dimensional resonance. Every step they take leaves behind fractal footprints that echo into eternity. Time works differently in this city: some alleys run backward, some plazas exist only when no one is looking. Marketplaces trade in ideas, emotions, and dreams, not goods. Cathedrals built for forgotten gods serve now as data hubs, where monks of light transcribe waves of time into holy scripts.
Prompt: Fog City of the Aeon Striders" – Mystical Sci-Fi, Urban Mist, Parallel Realities
Imagine a city perpetually cloaked in thick, opalescent fog that twists between dimensions. The buildings are both ancient and futuristic — obsidian temples covered in moss and neon signs, skyscrapers with ivy and alien circuitry embedded in their walls. Streets appear and disappear as the fog pulses, revealing new layers of reality, like flipping pages in a cosmic diary. Lights flicker not from bulbs, but from thought-responsive crystals embedded in the walls. The air tastes like ozone and memory.
Wandering the streets are the Aeon Striders — tall, cloaked beings with halos made of rings, each ring a floating reality they traverse. Their eyes glow like dying stars, and their staffs hum with dimensional resonance. Every step they take leaves behind fractal footprints that echo into eternity. Time works differently in this city: some alleys run backward, some plazas exist only when no one is looking. Marketplaces trade in ideas, emotions, and dreams, not goods. Cathedrals built for forgotten gods serve now as data hubs, where monks of light transcribe waves of time into holy scripts.
Prompt: Imagine a city perpetually cloaked in thick, opalescent fog that twists between dimensions. The buildings are both ancient and futuristic — obsidian temples covered in moss and neon signs, skyscrapers with ivy and alien circuitry embedded in their walls. Streets appear and disappear as the fog pulses, revealing new layers of reality, like flipping pages in a cosmic diary. Lights flicker not from bulbs, but from thought-responsive crystals embedded in the walls. The air tastes like ozone and memory.
Wandering the streets are the Aeon Striders — tall, cloaked beings with halos made of rings, each ring a floating reality they traverse. Their eyes glow like dying stars, and their staffs hum with dimensional resonance. Every step they take leaves behind fractal footprints that echo into eternity. Time works differently in this city: some alleys run backward, some plazas exist only when no one is looking. Marketplaces trade in ideas, emotions, and dreams, not goods. Cathedrals built for forgotten gods serve now as data hubs, where monks of light transcribe waves of time into holy scripts.
Prompt: Imagine a city perpetually cloaked in thick, opalescent fog that twists between dimensions. The buildings are both ancient and futuristic — obsidian temples covered in moss and neon signs, skyscrapers with ivy and alien circuitry embedded in their walls. Streets appear and disappear as the fog pulses, revealing new layers of reality, like flipping pages in a cosmic diary. Lights flicker not from bulbs, but from thought-responsive crystals embedded in the walls. The air tastes like ozone and memory.
Wandering the streets are the Aeon Striders — tall, cloaked beings with halos made of rings, each ring a floating reality they traverse. Their eyes glow like dying stars, and their staffs hum with dimensional resonance. Every step they take leaves behind fractal footprints that echo into eternity. Time works differently in this city: some alleys run backward, some plazas exist only when no one is looking. Marketplaces trade in ideas, emotions, and dreams, not goods. Cathedrals built for forgotten gods serve now as data hubs, where monks of light transcribe waves of time into holy scripts.
Prompt: Imagine a city perpetually cloaked in thick, opalescent fog that twists between dimensions. The buildings are both ancient and futuristic — obsidian temples covered in moss and neon signs, skyscrapers with ivy and alien circuitry embedded in their walls. Streets appear and disappear as the fog pulses, revealing new layers of reality, like flipping pages in a cosmic diary. Lights flicker not from bulbs, but from thought-responsive crystals embedded in the walls. The air tastes like ozone and memory.
Wandering the streets are the Aeon Striders — tall, cloaked beings with halos made of rings, each ring a floating reality they traverse. Their eyes glow like dying stars, and their staffs hum with dimensional resonance. Every step they take leaves behind fractal footprints that echo into eternity. Time works differently in this city: some alleys run backward, some plazas exist only when no one is looking. Marketplaces trade in ideas, emotions, and dreams, not goods. Cathedrals built for forgotten gods serve now as data hubs, where monks of light transcribe waves of time into holy scripts.
Prompt: Imagine a city perpetually cloaked in thick, opalescent fog that twists between dimensions. The buildings are both ancient and futuristic — obsidian temples covered in moss and neon signs, skyscrapers with ivy and alien circuitry embedded in their walls. Streets appear and disappear as the fog pulses, revealing new layers of reality, like flipping pages in a cosmic diary. Lights flicker not from bulbs, but from thought-responsive crystals embedded in the walls. The air tastes like ozone and memory.
Wandering the streets are the Aeon Striders — tall, cloaked beings with halos made of rings, each ring a floating reality they traverse. Their eyes glow like dying stars, and their staffs hum with dimensional resonance. Every step they take leaves behind fractal footprints that echo into eternity. Time works differently in this city: some alleys run backward, some plazas exist only when no one is looking. Marketplaces trade in ideas, emotions, and dreams, not goods. Cathedrals built for forgotten gods serve now as data hubs, where monks of light transcribe waves of time into holy scripts.
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.
