Prompt: The houseflies die on their feet. Fat, gummy, dragging across the table, too
stupid to get out of the way of a hand. You don’t even roll up the paper; you
just push them off the edge.
The sun quit the top of the sky last week. Now it shoots straight in under the
visor, cooking the road dust on the windshield, blinding you on the straightaway
past the silo just when the school bus is stopping.
The lake didn't slowly cool off. It slammed shut. Two weeks ago the dock was
loud; today the aluminum boat sits chained to the birch, collecting two inches
of black rain and a soup of drowned spiders.
A single leaf, wet and brown-edged, plastered flat under the wiper blade. Rowan
branches bowed low enough to drag in the nettles, not caring what the winter
brings, just sick of carrying the weight.
By eight, you notice the kitchen floor is cold on bare feet. By nine, the dark
isn't twilight anymore— it’s just a closed door. You pull on the heavy socks
from the basket, walk out to the woodshed with a flashlight, and accept the fact
that the year is done.
Prompt: Illustrate a scene with a Dachshund and an ATV in the Finnish countryside using a detailed, high-definition vintage illustration style. The image should capture the essence of Finland's nature with vibrant and saturated colors. Include quintessential Finnish elements like a clear blue lake, birch and pine trees, and rolling hills. The Dachshund should be playfully interacting with the environment, perhaps chasing a butterfly, while the ATV is parked on a dirt path nearby. The image should evoke a sense of nostalgia and the peacefulness of a summer day in the countryside.
Prompt: Vintage illustration of a Dachshund exploring a dirt path beside a parked ATV in rural Japan. Rich saturated colors. Terraced green rice fields, dense cedar and bamboo forests, a rustic wooden farm shed, and distant misty mountain peaks. Peaceful nostalgic summer day.
Prompt: **Over.**
The bells are ringing. They never ring the bells unless it's something big. Amira from next door ran in barefoot shouting it, and then the old man with the cart was saying it too, so it must be true, because grown-ups don't say the same thing twice unless they mean it.
Over.
Like when the rain is over and the puddles stay.
If it's over, then tonight I won't have to sleep with my shoes on. Mama makes me sleep with my shoes on so we can run fast if we have to run. My feet have lines in them now, little rivers.
If it's over, maybe the bread man will come back to our street. I don't remember bread anymore. I remember the *idea* of it. Warm, and it smells like a hug would smell, if hugs had a smell.
I asked Mama once if Papa would come home when the war ended, and she didn't say anything, and her not-saying was so loud I never asked again.
But other people's papas will come home. Elena's papa, maybe. He'll carry her on his shoulders and she'll be taller than everyone, taller than the broken rooftops.
I won't have to be quiet anymore. I got so good at being quiet I forget to breathe right. Maybe now I get to be loud. Maybe tomorrow I'll scream just to hear what my voice does when it's big.
The sky will just be the sky. Not a thing to watch.
Still—tonight, in the dark, I'll probably listen for the planes anyway. Not because I don't believe. Just because my ears learned to, and ears don't know about over.
But maybe. Maybe tomorrow Mama will smile with her whole face. I've only seen the corners of it for a long time now.
I'm going to set Papa's place at the table anyway.
Just in case over means what I want it to mean.
Prompt: – "Do you love the white bears?"
– "I love all bears equally."
– "So you hate polar bears."
– "I literally just said I love all bears."
– "Why are you angry at polar bears? Do you hate your mother?"
– "What does my mother have to do with bears?"
– "Amazin'."
Cartoon style.
Prompt: In the centre of this enchanted garden Madame Nilsson, in white cashmere slashed with pale blue satin, a reticule dangling from a blue girdle, and large yellow braids carefully disposed on each side of her muslin chemisette, listened with downcast eyes to M. Capoul's impassioned wooing, and affected a guileless incomprehension of his designs whenever, by word or glance, he persuasively indicated the ground floor window of the neat brick villa projecting obliquely from the right wing.
I mostly lean more towards curiosity than creativity (on my part) with AI stuff, but I do appreciate the approach where people aim to harness AI to express their own creativity.
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.
2d
11d
