Prompt: Thomas Kinkade style painting of an idyllic small village nestled in a gentle landscape. Emphasis on the warm, radiant glow emanating from the cottage windows, illuminating the surroundings like lanterns. Soft focus, peaceful atmosphere, maybe a hint of mist. Capture the 'Painter of Light' aesthetic with luminous highlights and deep, inviting shadows. Overall feeling of nostalgia and warmth.
Prompt: Whimsical illustration style. A slightly oversized, friendly-looking blue ATV is parked in front of a charming, slightly ramshackle barn. A curious brown dachshund wearing a tiny red bandana around its neck is sniffing at one of the ATV's large tires. Sunny day, bright colors, focus on character and charm, storybook feel.
Prompt: The snow doesn't surrender easily here.
It pulls back grudgingly,
a stained, grey-white sheet
revealing patches of dark, damp earth
that smell of secrets and cold stones.
Water finds its voice first.
A persistent drip, drip, drip
from the tin roof edge,
from the black, naked branches of the birch,
a soundtrack to the slow melt.
Puddles spread like inkblots on the paths,
reflecting a sky still washed in pale grey.
The sun climbs higher, yes,
but its light is thin, watery.
It throws long, weak shadows,
glints off the remaining ice crust
that crackles underfoot near the forest edge,
but offers little warmth.
You feel it on your face, a promise,
not a fulfillment.
Ice on the lakes groans,
rotting from the shoreline inwards,
a fragile lace of decay.
No green yet, not really.
Just the tough brown of last year's reeds,
the dark needles of the pines standing stoic.
But look closely:
the birch buds are swelling, tight fists
holding onto future leaves.
And down low, if you search,
the first determined pussy willows
push out their soft grey thumbs,
testing the air.
It's a landscape holding its breath.
The silence isn't winter's deep freeze,
but a waiting.
The sharp air carries the scent of wet wood,
of thawing soil,
of possibility.
This is the slow turn,
the hesitant awakening.
Not a rush, but a gradual loosening,
Finland exhaling winter,
slowly,
so slowly.
"Eldest don't toiing a sipo with he human paitty." Right, and that's how it should be.
Model:
AIVision
Size:
1792 X 1008
(1.81 MP)
Used settings:
Prompt: Imagine a neural network as a super smart toy box. You can teach it stuff by showing it examples—like showing it tons of cat and dog pictures so it learns to spot the difference. It’s not really “thinking” like you or me, but it gets really good at finding patterns! Let’s start with “pseudo analog.” The word “analog” is like when you turn the volume knob on a radio—it goes up or down super smoothly, not in big jumps. In computers (and neural networks are inside computers), things are usually “digital,” which means they’re choppy—like flipping a light switch on or off, 0 or 1, no in-between. But here’s the cool part: neural networks can pretend to be smooth, even though they’re made of digital bits. That’s why it’s called “pseudo analog”—“pseudo” means “fake,” so it’s like fake-smooth! Picture a neural network looking at a photo, trying to decide if it’s a face. Instead of just saying “yes” or “no,” it might say, “I’m 80% sure it’s a face!” That feels smooth, right? Not just an on-or-off answer, but something in between, like how you might say, “I’m pretty sure that’s my friend, but not totally sure.” “Emergent-like outputs” is a big, fancy phrase, but it’s actually super neat! “Emergent” means something surprising or cool pops up when lots of simple things work together. Think of a flock of birds flying in a twisty, beautiful pattern—each bird is just following simple rules like “stay close to my buddy,” but together, they make something amazing! In neural networks, there are tons of tiny parts (like little helpers) working together. When you give them lots of examples—like stories, pictures, or music—they start mixing and matching those patterns in new ways. The result? Outputs that seem smart or creative, even though the network isn’t really “thinking.”
Prompt: Nyaa! This channew is such a meanie-pants! >w< I’m so upsies-wupsies with aww this cwickbaity stuffies in evewy video! Pwease, stoppy-woppy making these siwwy tiwtles that twick us, I just want weaw content, pwease! So fwustwated, I might unsubby-wubby… pouts
Prompt: As twilight settled over the land, a dreamscape came to life. A cascading waterfall, adorned with shimmering silver ribbons, cascaded down moss-covered rocks, creating a symphony of sound. The surrounding forest, a tapestry of lush greens, concealed a hidden world of enchantment. Luminescent fireflies emerged, casting a magical glow upon the landscape. Delicate vines and blooming flowers adorned ancient trees, lending an air of whimsy to the scene. The air was heavy with the scent of damp earth and the distant fragrance of blooming jasmine. A wooden bridge spanned a babbling brook, beckoning wanderers to explore the ethereal beauty that lay beyond. It was a realm that sparked the imagination and transported one to a realm of wonder.
Prompt: Generate an image of a baker in his traditional bakery kitchen before dawn. The baker is an older man with a gentle expression, wearing a flour-dusted apron, and he is kneading dough on a wooden table. His hands are prominently featured, showing the texture of the dough and the flour, with visible lines and wrinkles that hint at years of experience. The kitchen is warm and cozy, illuminated by the soft, golden glow of a large brick oven in the background. Shelves are lined with freshly baked loaves of bread, and a sleeping tabby cat is curled up on a nearby chair, adding a touch of quiet whimsy. Through a small window, the dark, sleeping village is visible, with just a faint hint of light on the horizon suggesting the approaching dawn. The scene should feel serene, timeless, and meditative, capturing the baker’s quiet dedication and the simple, profound beauty of his daily ritual. Use a realistic art style, with rich textures—like the roughness of the dough, the warmth of the oven light, and the softness of the cat’s fur—and a warm, inviting atmosphere that evokes the scent of baking bread.
Prompt: The Baker's Hands.
Before dawn,
when the village sleeps
and even the stray cats are dreaming of cream,
his hands begin.
Not thinking, not planning,
just knowing.
The weight of the flour,
the cool silk of water,
the sleepy, yielding sigh of the yeast.
Years etched into the lines of his palms,
a map of loaves baked,
lives nourished,
a silent history of hunger and satisfaction.
He kneads,
a rhythmic push and pull,
a conversation without words
between muscle and dough.
The oven breathes hot,
a fiery heart in the cool kitchen.
And the scent,
oh, the scent,
a promise of warmth,
of comfort,
of the simple, profound joy
of breaking bread.
He doesn't think of poetry,
or philosophy,
or the grand sweep of time.
He just bakes.
And in that baking,
something ancient,
something holy,
is made new again.
Even.
Every.
Single.
Day.
Prompt: The air bites, sharp as a blade,
a stillness so deep it hums,
snow blankets the earth like a sigh,
endless, white, a canvas of cold.
Pines stand solemn,
their branches bowing under frost,
whispering secrets to the wind—
a low howl that dances through the dusk.
The sky, a pale shroud,
swallows the sun whole,
leaving only a faint glow,
a promise tucked beneath the horizon.
Lakes freeze, mirrors of ice,
reflecting the silence,
the weight of a season
that cradles both beauty and burden.
In the distance,
a flicker—
auroras weave their threads of light,
green and violet stitching the night,
a quiet gift for those who endure.
Boots crunch, breath clouds,
time slows to the rhythm of falling flakes,
Finland’s winter holds you,
unyielding, tender, vast.
Prompt: The Baker's Hands.
Before dawn,
when the village sleeps
and even the stray cats are dreaming of cream,
his hands begin.
Not thinking, not planning,
just knowing.
The weight of the flour,
the cool silk of water,
the sleepy, yielding sigh of the yeast.
Years etched into the lines of his palms,
a map of loaves baked,
lives nourished,
a silent history of hunger and satisfaction.
He kneads,
a rhythmic push and pull,
a conversation without words
between muscle and dough.
The oven breathes hot,
a fiery heart in the cool kitchen.
And the scent,
oh, the scent,
a promise of warmth,
of comfort,
of the simple, profound joy
of breaking bread.
He doesn't think of poetry,
or philosophy,
or the grand sweep of time.
He just bakes.
And in that baking,
something ancient,
something holy,
is made new again.
Even.
Every.
Single.
Day.
Prompt: In the realm of upside-down logic, tea leaves read the fortune of a sentient, opera-singing teapot. A parade of miniature elephants, wearing top hats made of cheese, marched through a forest of candy canes and lollipops. The moon, feeling adventurous, decided to take a stroll among the stars, leaving the night sky to be lit by a disco ball. A group of intellectual jellyfish gathered to discuss quantum physics in a library made entirely of bubbles. Meanwhile, a time-traveling dinosaur, named Sir Reginald, attended a ball in the Victorian era, where he danced the waltz with a cactus in a gown. In this nonsensical universe, rainbows are drawn by unicorns with colored pencils, and clouds are made of cotton candy, floating in a sky of lemonade.
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.
