Prompt: Beware the legend of the Red Room curse,
A tale of darkness, a story perverse,
A room painted red, a place of dread,
Where the curse lurks with its vengeful thread.
Once a room of joy and delight,
Now shrouded in mystery, a haunting sight,
Its walls adorned with crimson hue,
But something sinister, it conceals, it's true.
Legends speak of a tragic past,
Of a family cursed, their lives harassed,
By an unknown force, a malevolent power,
That grips the Red Room in its vengeful hour.
Whispers of whispers, voices unheard,
Echo through the walls, a chilling word,
Shadowy figures, spectral in the night,
Dancing in the crimson light.
Those who enter, beware, beware,
For the curse has claimed its victims there,
Lost souls who never returned,
Caught in the Red Room's eerie yearn.
Some say it's a portal to the other side,
Where restless spirits forever abide,
Seeking revenge, seeking release,
From the curse that never seems to cease.
But none can break the Red Room's spell,
For the curse persists, a haunting dwell,
A chilling presence that lingers on,
In the room painted red, long after dawn.
Prompt: In Southend town, a legend goes,
Of Ratman, feared by friends and foes,
A creature small, but oh so sly,
With cunning eyes and a tail held high.
Rumors whisper of a human form,
With rat-like features, a fearsome norm,
A figure elusive, quick and sleek,
Living in shadows, a mystery to seek.
Some say he scurries through the night,
In hidden tunnels, out of sight,
Feasting on scraps and stolen fare,
A creature of darkness, beyond compare.
Others claim he's a myth, a tale so tall,
A figment of fear, not real at all,
But those who've glimpsed his eerie gaze,
Are left with chills and a sense of daze.
So, beware the Ratman of Southend's lore,
A creature feared, but never ignored,
A legend whispered, a mystery untold,
In the town of Southend, so the stories are told.
Prompt: Phantom clowns, they dance at night,
In shadows cast by pale moonlight.
Their painted smiles, forever bright,
Concealing darkness, out of sight.
They jest and laugh, with twisted glee,
A macabre show, for none to see.
Their eyes, like coals, burn menacingly,
As they frolic in their eerie decree.
Children shudder, grown-ups fear,
The phantom clowns, elusive and unclear.
Are they real or just a specter drear?
A haunting mystery, year after year.
So beware, dear friend, when night is near,
And the circus comes, so strange and queer.
For the phantom clowns, with their eerie veneer,
Will haunt your dreams, with terror severe.
Prompt: Beneath the earth, a treasure waits,
A time capsule, sealed by fates.
A relic from days long gone by,
A glimpse into the past, oh, my!
A box of memories, locked in time,
Preserving moments, pure and prime.
With letters penned in ink and quill,
And faded photos, sepia still.
A snapshot of a bygone era,
Preserved for those who will discover,
The secrets held within its walls,
Tales of triumphs, joys, and falls.
From a time when life was different,
Simple pleasures, hearts more innocent.
A window to the world back then,
A glimpse of where we once had been.
A link between the past and now,
A bridge that spans, a timeless vow.
Reminding us of who we are,
Our roots, our stories, near and far.
Prompt: Winter's chill, a heart grown cold,
Grief's icy grip, a story untold.
Bare branches, a desolate scene,
Where loss is felt, so stark, so keen.
Spring arrives, a glimmer of hope,
Budding blooms, a chance to cope.
A new beginning, a thawing heart,
A step forward, a brand-new start.
Summer's warmth, a healing balm,
Time's gentle touch, a soothing calm.
Memories cherished, love's sweet embrace,
Grief transformed, with time and grace.
Autumn comes, a season of change,
Leaves falling, a sense of range.
Acceptance found, a peaceful release,
Grief transformed, into inner peace.
Seasons of grief, a journey's toll,
A path of healing, a wounded soul.
With time and love, and strength within,
Grief transformed, life begins again.
Prompt: Witches dancing a Forest clearing ritual, semi naked.
Deep dream in the style of Naoto Hattori, Aubrey Beardsley, dave mckean, art nouveau. Occult. Sinister. Liminal
Prompt: In the moonlight's gentle glow,
Where spirits dance to and fro,
Their tails a blur, a whirlwind spin,
A mystical, otherworldly din.
They twirl and twist in graceful flight,
A celestial ballet of sheer delight,
Their tails trailing like ribbons bright,
Leaving trails of magic in the night.
With whispers soft and laughter sweet,
They sweep through the air with nimble feet,
In a tailspin of joy and merriment,
A mystical display of pure enchantment.
Their spirits soar, their tails aglow,
A bewitching sight, a wondrous show,
A reminder of magic's timeless grace,
A fleeting glimpse of a mystical place.
Prompt: huge mountain ranges, a glorious valley filled with green life and a beautiful sparkling blue river, old medieval town next to river, with railway track distance, scale, great depth
Prompt: An old English Seaside Cottage, some waves being shown on the ocean, beautiful soft pastel colours for background, make a proper entrance and Doorway steps that is very inviting with pots of spring flowers, climbing roses up building to add pop of colours,
Prompt: A mountain village, stone-paved street with flowers and overgrown cliff view behind, add much more colourful flowers, blooming village, ink and watercolour illustration
Prompt: A brand new ancient alien land of surreal creativity and unnatural concepts, one woman in a long dress is walking on a path in the rain, by Jean-Baptiste Monge, watercolor ink, intricate details, fantasy, beautiful, award winning, fantastic view, crisp quality, Peter Gric, Ivan Shishkin, sunrays in the mist, light reflections, deep colours, volumetric lighting, polished, masterful surrealism, cel-shaded, high definition
Prompt: AI is the world's child, it will learn from what we teach it, we need to expose it to art and music, we need to show it the better side of humanity, we need to teach AI about love and peace.
Prompt: small Greek house by the rocky coast, (blue roofs), blue windows, white walls, grass, stone paths, sunny sky, pine trees in background, cinematic view
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.