Prompt: Realistic, photographic, mythic. Vast, silent, exact, every light riding the edges of the void. Vertical composition, portrait ratio, her floating high in the frame, body inclined on a rising diagonal, boots lower left, helmet upper right, the gothic station well below her, the Earth a curved blue limb at the base, honest black between the tiers. A French woman in her late twenties seen through her helmet glass. Directly behind her helmet the sun, huge, an aureole around her head, rays breaking past the dome, the light she believes she made worn as a halo. She does not look at it. Serene, certain, a gentle oval face, soft jaw, full lips softly closed, chin lifted a degree past serene, eyes forward and upward on nothing yet. Fair warm freckled skin, unretouched. Pale blue-grey eyes, glacial, darker limbal ring, one amber catchlight, never luminous, thin washed teal traces at the outer corners. Chestnut-auburn hair drifting in the helmet, her rainbow braid streaming through a wax sealed brass grommet port in the helmet ring, the one polychrome thing she owns. A spacesuit by a Victorian tailor who refused to compromise with vacuum. The helmet dome seated on a tarnished brass collar flange, rising from the same flange a crystal gorget, one continuous sealed assembly, no gap, the gorget a smooth curved crystal pane set into the suit front, following her neckline down to the sternum, an open panel glazed in pale lightly frosted crystal, a long specular gleam across it, unmistakably glass, fine cream tulle beneath, the curve of her figure softly shadowed yet readable through the pane, amber light pooling there, sealed away. A narrow crystal seam down the outer thigh, hip to boot top, thin as a ribbon, glazed, frosted, gleaming, skin softly shadowed beneath the glass. Slim leather straps with brass buckles cinching the waist and crossing the hips, one circling the upper thigh where the seam begins. Suit fabrics aged cream and bone, straps brown, brass tarnished dark, never gold cloth, never gilt armor, the only gold a thin glow in stitched seams and the amber light at her skin. Embossed scrollwork bodice shaped to a full feminine figure, quilted pressure fabric, cracked leather gloves, gold thread oversewn on seams needing no reinforcement, small glass vitrines in the forearm plating, tiny clockwork inside. A red wax seal on the chest, ribbons beneath, cream lace escaping at collar, cuffs and boot tops. A chatelaine at her hip, keys, compass, tiny hourglass, the antique pocket watch drifting from one glove, face pale, unlit. Below, the station, a cathedral that left the ground, a long dark hull, a steep gothic gable bearing a round clock face glowing faint, clustered spires behind, one openwork spire highest, a glazed iron annex on the flank, iron buttresses, carved stone gargoyles crouched among them. On the hull one word only, 0RGUEIL, stenciled huge in scoured paint, the first O a zero. Beneath it the Earth, blue, cloud marbled, refusing to be owned. Hard airless sunlight, knife edge shadows, crushed blacks, sharp stars, slight overexposure at lit edges. Shallow depth, only she in focus. Film grain. She climbed past her own church. The light was free the whole way up. l'orgueil, by eryn.
Prompt: An image with a 16k resolution. The year is 2250. The alien planet SwiftFX in the Ultran Expanse floats gracefully round its binary red and blue stars against the backdrop of the vibrant Elven Nebula with its pink, yellow, blue and green gases. The alien planet has become a hub for technology and culture in the system and its continents glow with lights of thousands of thriving cities. Throngs of sleek and advanced space craft enter and exit its atmosphere on a daily basis but today there's a special visitor. A gigantic spaceship orbits the planet like a colossal dystopian neon city of sin. Its gothic styled black metallic exterior buzzing with ominous red lights from a thousand windows on its surface. Its red top surface rises in the middle to form a mass of huge towers reaching upwards adorned with cannons, satellite dishes, aerials and other strange items of alien technology. What do they want? Where are they from? The inhabitants of the peaceful planet of SwiftFX wait to find out.
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.
