Prompt: A cluttered medieval herbalist workshop. Moody shafts of morning sunlight cutting through dusty air, illuminating hanging bundles of dried lavender, chamomile, and roots. Copper alembics, amber glass jars filled with colorful dried ingredients, and thick, open leather-bound books.
Prompt: He slides his phone across. A shaky recording of a street busker in Helsinki, accordion, off-key.
JONAH: Why would he do this in the cold? His hands are red. No one is paying. The sound does not warm him. It does not fix anything.
MARA: It's not supposed to fix anything. My mom used to hum while she did dishes. Same three notes, over and over, completely tuneless. She wasn't performing. It just made the work hers for a minute.
JONAH: We have work songs. Respiratory pacing chants. 4 in, 4 hold, 4 out. They increase oxygen efficiency.
MARA: That's not a song. That's a metronome with a HR department.
JONAH: Then show me the difference.
MARA: Fine.
She opens her laptop. Plays 30 seconds of Billie Holiday, "Solitude." No video, just audio.
JONAH: long pause Again.
She plays it again.
JONAH: Why does my chest hurt? I am not ill. Is this a medical event?
MARA: No. That's what it does.
JONAH: It is inefficient. She is sad. You are making me sad and I have never met her. Why would you keep a tool that transmits sadness to strangers?
MARA: Because it's true. Because sometimes you feel alone and someone a hundred years ago felt alone in exactly that shape, and for three minutes you are not alone. You don't solve it. You witness it.
Prompt: Heavy. Heavy thighs, yellow dust caked thick, dragging the back legs down but keep the beat up. Heavy but warm. Thrum-thrum-thrum-thrum. The air is thick today, like flying through wet wool. Where’s the blue? There. No, that’s shadow. Turn. Shift the weight. Left wing-tip scraping a pine needle, close, too close, focus. There’s the beacon. Ultra-violet glowing hot in the center of the white cup. Landing guides lit up like lightning. Smells like... wet sugar and old sun. Down.
Drop the legs. Brake. Thump.
Still vibrating. The whole world is shaking even when the wings stop. Fold them down. Tight to the back. Crawl. It’s hairy in here. Sticky. Lick the plate, probe, deep into the well. Oh, sweet. Cold and thick. Drink fast, the shadow’s moving, the giant tree-beast shadow is coming across the grass. Swallow, pump the abdomen, pack the knees. Rub the face. Dust everywhere. Clean the antennae—one swipe, two. Got to get back before the damp hits. The Queen’s scent is faint but it’s there, pulling from the dirt hole under the roots.
Now, lift. Push off. Heavy, so heavy now. The legs are anchors. Beat harder. Bzzzzzzzzzt. Up, clear the clover, wind’s catching. Fight the drift. The sun is a flat white eye through the clouds. Left, aim left. Keep the buzz high. Almost home.
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.
10d
