Prompt: Two technomage lovers—wizard and sorceress—stand in a cathedral of teslapunk invention and broken vows, their quarrel a storm so incandescent it bends time. Their eyes are twin furnaces—equal parts longing and fury—and their hair and robes lash as if caught in a solar wind. They cry each other’s true names, and the syllables detonate into rings of charged light. Blue‑white lightning leaps from their hands as living serpents, braiding mid‑air before raking outward in world‑splitting arcs. The ambiguity is the knife‑edge: will they accomplish anything at all—reconciliation, victory, surrender—before the building buckles? Do they even care?
The laboratory floats on the edge of forever: brass pylons and vaulted Tesla coils tower through a storm‑torn skylight; constellations bleed through fractures in the stone like stars seen through shattered glass. Every coil hums with unstable resonance, the entire structure suspended between reality and the void. Lightning geysers erupt across catwalks; glassware detonates into crystalline stardust; gearwork automatons sag and melt into pools of liquid chrome. Each shouted accusation births a gravity‑quake—tables invert, sparks spiral backward in time, and runic schematics ignite in mid‑air as violet script that rewrites itself faster than breath.
Brass struts glow white‑hot, veined with quicksilver; obsidian tiles shear free and hang like moons; droplets of mercury rise in anti‑gravity halos. Scorched stone sweats iridescent plasma; torn parchment curls in paradox blue flame that falls like fractal snow. Foreground debris—whips of severed cable, flaming crystal shards, bent instrument arms—frames the lovers. Midground: the two, bodies set on a diagonal of annihilation, their crossing bolts a cosmic X. Background: walls bow outward, revealing a horizonless gulf where constellations collapse and reform with each thunderclap of their quarrel.
Every discharge births a temporary sun—blue‑white Tesla bursts, crimson singularity flares, emerald shockwaves like bells of creation. Shadows rip across warped stone in jagged strobe while time‑split after‑images of the lovers flicker milliseconds ahead and behind their bodies, as if time itself is confessing their desire. The magical heat and molten light are mirrors of the fire that burns within them—for each other—so that every shattered beaker, every ruptured wall, every groan of flexing reality reads as a love letter written in thunder.
In the style of Eddie Del Rio, Luke Aegis, Alex Pronin, Jan Ditlev, Stas Yurev, Michael Whelan, and Keith Parkinson.
--mod arcane cinematic, --mod aetheric tendrils, --mod alert red glow, --mod arc weld sparks, --mod apocalyptic omen, --mod aerial depth falloff, --mod airlight layer, --mod ambient haze, --mod anamorphic lens flare, --mod anamorphic widescreen look, --mod anti gravity propulsion, --mod archetype light, --mod teslapunk laboratory, --mod dimensional fracture, --mod paradox flame, --mod anti-gravity embers, --mod cosmic passion, --mod brass-and-chrome cathedral, --mod violet shock halo, --mod reality warp, --mod runic schematics ignition, --mod time-sliced echoes
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.
