Prompt: Realistic and cartoon drawing blend. Moody, ethereal. Very intricate lines and details. Masterful composition, laundry-day tenderness. The strokes are the life of the picture and the lights come from them. Grand lavage.
Bright windy morning behind the old southern stone house: a walled drying-garden, sun and fast clouds, thistles and rosemary at the wall's foot, and two long washing-lines strung between an olive tree and an iron hook in the stone. Pegged to the lines, drying in the wind, are dreams: a dozen of them, hung like sheer laundry, each one a thin translucent panel of dream-stuff, a spire, a garden, a coastline, a staircase of clouds, luminous and rippling in the gusts. The freshly washed ones nearest the house are pale, their colours faint and waterlogged, still dripping thin rainbow drops into the grass; further down the line, the ones that have hung longest in the sun have their colours back, vivid and dry, snapping cheerfully in the wind. Under the lines, the drips have made a crooked little path of colour in the green grass.
The steampunk victorian gothic timelordy witch is at work along the line, and she is a woman in her end twenties early thirties, French: auburn / dark-strawberry hair (muted, not flame-bright), disheveled by the wind, ends white and rainbow, remnants of eons gone (for now); fair, warm pink-toned skin with light freckling across the nose and cheeks; smallish, youthful, cute rather than striking, a soft, present, delicate lived-in face; ice bright blue eyes, teal and blue liner, a discrete touch of sparkles; a tiny drawn mark under one eye, soft and imperfect; necklaces, rings and fabric wristband. Sleeves rolled, the ornate dark hat with the tiny closed wooden door pushed back on her head, a single wooden peg held in her teeth, she wrestles one large unruly dream flat against the wind with both hands, her coat flapping. A wicker basket at her feet holds more dreams, damp and folded, waiting their turn. Her expression, around the peg, is the busy contentment of someone doing ordinary chores with extraordinary washing.
At the garden gate, seen from behind, a slim, thin woman with short cropped bright red hair carries out a second basket, helping, her face never visible, sun on her bare shoulders.
High summer light, wind you can see, the dreams and the drip-path carrying all the colour. Out-of-time and timeless. Domestic, funny, quietly lovely: even wonders need airing. Masterpiece, by eryn.
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.
