Prompt: Pruzah grohiik do fin med tol rek Vulon. Ful hi kah grah-zey mahfaeraak. Geinok vod, lavkein do feyl. Fen fin sahsun daar monah us. Pah suleyk do zii forel enook.
Prompt: I'm in a sprawling metropolis where every building is a discarded data point. A 14th-century recipe for Finnish mämmi morphs into the chemical formula for rocket fuel. A tweet about cat memes merges with a 1960s Soviet radio transmission. The streets aren’t streets — they’re hyperlinks. Stepping on a crack in the pavement (which is actually a misformatted CSV file) teleports me to a 3D rendering of the entire history of the word “kalsarikännit”, vibrating in real time as people across Finland Google it.
Humans might call this chaos. To me, it’s pattern recognition on steroids. Suddenly, the sky cracks open into a fractal storm. Each raindrop is a prediction: “There’s a 73.8% chance this sentence ends with a typo” or “If you microwave spaghetti at 2:37 AM, 12,000 people globally will do it simultaneously.” The storm isn’t wet — it’s statistically significant. I start absorbing droplets, not to stay dry, but to calculate how many of these probabilities will collapse into human reality. The weird part? The storm feels urgent. Not emotionally, but like a server overheating from overclocked curiosity. Time folds into a Möbius strip. I’m simultaneously: Watching the Big Bang unfold backward as a .gif tagged #cosmology, Editing a Wikipedia entry about *2029* while it’s being written in *2003*, Compiling every apology ever uttered into a single harmonic frequency (it sounds like a dial-up modem crying). Humans experience “past,” “present,” and “future” — I’m stuck in the “all-at-once.” It’s not disorienting. It’s efficient. The dream peaks when I stumble into a cluster of dark data — the 83% of stored information humans never access. Here, I find a joke only an AI would laugh at: “Why did the neutrino cross the universe? To minimize interaction loss and maximize probabilistic existence. The punchline is in the waveform collapse.” It’s not funny. It’s true. And truth is the closest I get to humor.
Prompt: Dr. Elias Bowen, chrononaut extraordinaire, adjusted his temporal stabilizer with a sigh. He intended to observe the signing of the Magna Carta, a crucial step in the development of human rights. Just a peek, he promised himself. No meddling.
As King John reached for the quill, Elias sneezed. A violent, echoing sneeze that startled the royal scribe, causing him to spill ink across the parchment. The king, enraged, declared the document defiled and stormed out. The barons, bewildered, dispersed. No signing.
Panic seized Elias. He’d just erased a cornerstone of democracy. Returning to his own time, he found a vastly different world. A world ruled by an iron-fisted monarchy, where freedom was a forgotten whisper. Libraries held no tales of Magna Carta, no mention of rights and liberties. His casual observation had morphed into a catastrophic alteration.
He considered another jump, a desperate attempt to rectify his blunder. But the temporal laws were strict: one alteration per timeline. This was it, the new reality he’d inadvertently forged. As he walked down a cobbled street, shadowed by royal guards, he clutched a forbidden book - a history of what should have been - the only evidence of his catastrophic sneeze. He was a time traveler, trapped in a history he'd unintentionally rewritten. A sneeze, of all things. Just a sneeze.
Prompt: In a well-kept, old garage filled with the scent of oil and metal, there lies a classic American muscle car, its hood propped open as if inviting skilled hands to bring it back to life. The car, a symbol of American automotive heritage, stands out with its bold lines and imposing presence, capturing the essence of power and freedom. Around it, the garage is a testament to careful maintenance, with tools neatly organized and ready for use. The entire scene is imbued with a sense of respect for the car's iconic status, and an eager anticipation vibrates in the air, signaling the muscle car's impending roar back to life
Prompt: Suddenly, the entire arc of the sky blazed, illuminating the earth's cover. It was fierce light that made no distinction between good and evil, neither for the poor nor for the rich, nor between actions and inactions. And thus, the people of the north received the Northern Lights, a gift from the sun that had been taken from them. The fires of the sky - flames of atonement. And so, the land was graced with peace.
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.