Prompt: From a high vantage point in space, aliens are rolling dice. Below them, a war scene unfolds, with bombs, explosions, fire, smoke, and casualties. On a shelf behind the aliens are small nuclear missiles.
They are looking down in excitement
Prompt: From a high vantage point, aliens are rolling dice. Below them, a war scene unfolds, with bombs, explosions, fire, smoke, and casualties. On a shelf behind the aliens are small nuclear missiles.
Prompt: An old man sits in an old armchair. A faint glow surrounds him, with luminous particles slowly rising. He sits in a room with a cobwebbed, broken-pane window to his right. On the wall behind him hang yellowed black-and-white photos of family members. On the left, an old door stands open. In the opening stands the reaper, his scythe staring at the man.
Prompt: An old man sits in an old armchair. A faint glow surrounds him, with luminous particles slowly rising. He sits in a room with a cobwebbed, broken-pane window to his right. On the wall behind him hang yellowed black-and-white photos of family members. On the left, an old door stands open. In the opening stands the reaper, his scythe staring at the man.
Prompt: The corpses of a death elephant is lying on the ground. You can see between the torn skin the bones of the elephant with brown stains surrounded with rotten flesh.
Around the elephant dead trees are reaching in a red sky with white striped clouds.
Above the red sky you see it turn blue and that it is filled with white stars.
Prompt: The corpses of a death elephant is lying on the ground. You can see the bones of the elephant with brown stains surrounded with rotten flesh.
Around the elephant dead trees are reaching in a red sky with white striped clouds.
Above it the sky turn blue and is filled with white stars.
Prompt: The corpses of a death elephant is on the ground. You can see the bones of the elephant with brown stains surrounded with rotten flesh.
Around the elephant dead trees are reaching in a red sky with white striped clouds.
Above it the sky turn blue and is filled with white stars.
Prompt: On an old Brick Road is a stuffed old rat with holes in his body with cotton coming out of the holes.
The brich road has dark pools in which frogs are watching the rat just with there eyes above the muddy water.
Around the pool you see red mushrooms with white dots. On it are little happy children.
A bright moon gives reflections on the water in the pool.
Prompt: The Perpetual Twilight of Aethelburg
In the perpetually somber city of Aethelburg, where the sky hangs like a perpetually bruised canvas and rain is not merely weather but a constant, weeping presence, Elias has loved Elara for as long as he can remember. Their childhood was a blur of shared whispers in crumbling alleyways and hushed dreams under the eaves of decaying gothic architecture, but as they grew, so too did the unspoken chasm between them.
Aethelburg itself mirrors their stagnant affection. Once a vibrant mercantile hub, it now slowly drowns in its own melancholy, its grand squares empty save for the sheen of constant puddles, its ornate buildings shedding their grandeur like tears. The gas lamps cast faint, wavering halos against the perpetual twilight, illuminating only the immediate, never the distant hope.
Elara, with her quiet grace and eyes that hold the same muted grey as the city's skies, remains oblivious, or perhaps willfully ignorant, of Elias's devotion. He has tried, in his own diffident way, to bridge the gap – a carefully pressed wildflower left on her doorstep, a half-written poem tucked into a book he knew she'd read, a lingering touch that went unnoticed. Each attempt is swallowed by the city's oppressive dampness, much like his feelings are consumed by her gentle, unseeing smile.
As the years turn, marked only by the shifting intensity of the rain, Elias finds himself a silent fixture in her life, a shadow in Aethelburg's unending dusk. He watches her from afar, a specter of unspoken desire. His love is a whispered prayer against the roar of the downpour, a fragile ember in a city that has forgotten the sun. The question isn't whether she will ever reciprocate, but whether his love, like Aethelburg itself, is destined to fade into a gentle, watery oblivion, forever unanswered, forever clinging to the hope of a dawn that may never break.
Prompt: Mechanical watches fascinate me because of the small parts that together divide time into equal parts. Yet, time is an experience. When it's enjoyable, time seems to fly by. When it's boring, it is as if time has stopped.
Today I read an article that suggested it's not time that moves, but we, through time. We move through the world that we shape and color through our senses. We go from A to B and beyond. Modern technology has shortened time, or the world has become smaller, as some say.
In Star Trek, they have a transporter that takes you from A to B in a flash. Does distance or (travel) time no longer exist then?
When I'm drawing and listening to music, I feel very present in the moment, as if time doesn't exist. When I write, the same thing happens. Yet, over time, something has changed. I have a drawing, I have a story.
This drawing by the huiskamerartiest reminds me of a watch and of time. At the same time, the thought comes up about our journey through space and time and what it means when you are, in fact, trapped in a biological vehicle that ultimately travels through that time and space, and you yourself also become a story when the physical body can no longer travel further and you only exist in the memories of the people still alive.
Prompt: Baby, I see this world has made you sad
Some people can be bad
The things they do, the things they say
But baby, I'll wipe away those bitter tears
I'll chase away those restless fears
That turn your blue skies into gray
Why worry
There should be laughter after pain
There should be sunshine after rain
These things have always been the same
So why worry now
Why worry now
Baby, when I get down I turn to you
And you make sense of what I do
And though it isn't hard to say
But baby, just when this world seems mean and cold
Our love comes shining red and gold
And all the rest is by the way
Why worry
There should be laughter after pain
There should be sunshine after rain
These things have always been the same
So why worry now
Why worry now
Prompt: A man floats in the middle of a very large bubble. On the outside of the bubble, people and children try to connect with the floating man, who is completely oblivious. The bubble is connected by a kind of umbilical cord to a grayish, bubbly cloud.
Prompt: On the ground in a fairytale forest lies an empty caterpillar cocoon with an opening at the front. A butterfly, rainbow-colored, flies from the cocoon toward the blue sky. Small children stand on toadstools, waving goodbye to the butterfly. Happy, old, gray-haired people sit on the branches of the trees.
Prompt: Woorden die belangrijk zijn om geschreven en uitgesproken te worden.
Voor een tijd en een deel hebben we kunnen laten zien dat beschaving er kan zijn in woord en gebaar.
Deze beschaving staat onder druk en op plekken is deze schreeuwend afwezig. Sluimerend is het onrecht altijd aanwezig geweest. Het onrecht van toen vormt het onrecht van nu. De maakbaarheid van onze samenleving is dichtbij geweest.
Wie weet, is het als stoppen met roken. De verleiding is groot en soms begin je weer opnieuw maar je weet wel dat je het kunt.
Dat wij het kunnen om te werken aan een beschaafde wereld. Niet alleen ons stukje maar overal. Werkelijk onrecht en ervaren onrecht vechten met elkaar om aandacht. Als je mensen dwingt of ze zich gedwongen voelen in de overlevingsstand te gaan, komt het barbarisme als roest door het dunne laagje beschaving gevreten.
Egoïsme, machtswellust, geldzucht, narcisme, psychopathie creëren een atmosfeer die als zoute zeelucht beschaving laat wegroesten.
Prompt: Much is interconnected. Busy thoughts tie everything together. It goes on and on. When you try to capture a thought, it's so hard not to go off in all directions and connect knowledge, facts, and opinions. Fly above it like a helicopter and you see that the circles resemble old-fashioned mechanical watches with countless tiny details. Then the huiskamerartiest discovers the story behind the doodle. All the bubbles people disappear into and reappear in. Washed minds with attractive, pre-formed opinions. Peace because it is what it is. No doubts, certain knowledge, and everyone else is just crazy.
Prompt: I'm tired, boss. Tired of being on the road, lonely as a sparrow in the rain. I'm tired of never having me a buddy to be with to tell me where we's going to, coming from, or why. Mostly, I'm tired of people being ugly to each other. I'm tired of all the pain I feel and hear in the world... every day. There's too much of it. It's like pieces of glass in my head...all the time
Prompt: An old man with number 67 on his back runs towards a finish. Before the finish everything is dry and grey. Behind the finish stand colourfully dressed men, women and happy children.
Prompt: Started differently than usual with lines made of dashes. Boxes are created and I started filling them with colors and doodles. The huiskamerartiest feels watched by the drawing. Reflections of thinking. Mirrored feelings. DNA strings that form your body and brains that prepare to be inhabited by your thoughts, your feelings, your memories, built from what all your senses experience, interpret and let it learn. On the way to where the body can no longer accommodate what you have collected as a soul. Just heard that we are all droplets that rise from a large mass and eventually return there.
Prompt: Started differently than usual with lines made of dashes. Boxes are created and I started filling them with colors and doodles. The huiskamerartiest feels watched by the drawing. Reflections of thinking. Mirrored feelings. DNA strings that form your body and brains that prepare to be inhabited by your thoughts, your feelings, your memories, built from what all your senses experience, interpret and let it learn. On the way to where the body can no longer accommodate what you have collected as a soul. Just heard that we are all droplets that rise from a large mass and eventually return there.
Prompt: A man stands between many large bubbles that have different colors like soap bubbles. From these bubbles come hands that try to pull the man into their bubble. Around the scene are all kinds of houses from different cultures.
Prompt: A hand just barely sticks out of a pool of quicksand surrounded by ghostly roots and branches. Gas from the quicksand bubbles up. At the edge of the swamp is an old wooden sign with the alpha omega sign on it. The beginning and the end. This scene is lit by a full moon that casts shadows from the trees onto the ground.
Prompt: A man stands on the beach with a ball of sand in his hand. Kneaded from sand and water to save it for later. Once that sand was a large mountain formed by primal forces, which slowly wore away by air and wind. Transported by rivers, what was once a mass of sand came to a deserted beach. In the hands of the man the sand came together again to dream of a distant past kneaded into a story in the present. Just as a dream slowly slips away from your consciousness when you wake up, the ball of sand disappeared from the hand when it was hit by seawater.
Prompt: Een man staat aan het strand met een bal zand in zijn hand.
Gekneed uit zand en water om het te bewaren voor later.
Eens was dat zand een door oerkrachten gevormde grote berg, die langzaam versleet door lucht en wind.
Door rivieren vervoert, kwam wat eens een massa van betekenis was het zand op een verlaten strand.
In de handen van de man kwam het zand weer bij elkaar om te dromen van een ver verleden even tot een verhaal gekneed in het heden.
Zoals een droom langzaam wegglijd uit je bewustzijn als je ontwaakt, verdween de bal zand uit de hand toen deze door zeewater werd geraakt.
Prompt: From the brown ground rise yellow-red tendrils that enter human bodies through body openings. Above them fly black demons with large red eyes and a mouth full of sharp teeth and green dripping slime. On a mountain, people dressed in white and blue robes watch this scene. Up in the sky filled with thunderclouds, the sun shines, reaching the ground with broken rays.
Prompt: An old man sits on a large backpack. Around him hang gas balloons with the text: dreams on them. Some rise with a dangling thread. Other balloons lie broken on the ground. Behind him stands a line of friendly people on a long road to the horizon.
Prompt: What can you do about world problems on your own. While I was doodling, this butterfly emerged. Butterflies are often colorful. In addition, they are part of the so-called butterfly effect. A flying butterfly can cause a hurricane on the other side of the world if it moves air at the right time. A kind of domino effect. If the first stone falls, the rest are doomed to fall. The moral of the story: no matter how small an action seems, you never know what movement will start. That is why the huiskamerartiest obediently continues to draw.
Prompt: Create an image that symbolizes the end time as predicted in the Bible in a horrific way. Just make one little spot where you can see the predicted glory.
Prompt: Create an image that symbolizes the end time as predicted in the Bible in a horrific way. Just make one little spot where you can see the predicted glory.
Prompt: Create an image that symbolizes the end time as predicted in the Bible in a horrific way.
Just make one little spot where you can see the predicted glory.
Prompt: “Do you love me?” Alice asked softly.
“No,” said the White Rabbit. “I don’t love you.”
Alice frowned and clasped her hands, the way she always did when she felt small and hurt.
“You see?” the Rabbit continued. “Now you’ll start wondering what’s wrong with you. Why you’re not enough. Why I can’t love you at least a little.”
He paused, then leaned in with eyes full of gentle wisdom.
“That’s why I can’t love you—not yet. Because love isn’t supposed to fill the holes inside you. If you don’t love yourself, even just a little, then every careless word, every misunderstanding, every grey day from someone else will cut deep like a blade.”
He looked at her kindly. “People hurt each other, Alice. Even the good ones. Not because they mean to, but because they’re tired or lost or struggling with something no one can see. That’s life. And you, my dear, must be strong enough not to crumble when it happens.”
Alice looked down, quiet.
The White Rabbit smiled. “The first time I saw you, I made a promise to myself. ‘I won’t love her until she learns to love herself.’ Because then, and only then, will your heart be safe—whether I’m here or not.”
Prompt: Then you look around and realize that your opinion and story on the internet has the same impact as a sidewalk tile lying somewhere on the globe. What emotion does justice to this realization? I can perhaps fill the void in this doodle one day. Where actions can make the world a better place, do your best. In history, the shades of black, red and white have become symbols of a regime that plunged the world into darkness and was doomed to perish. Truth, recognition, repentance, forgiveness and redemption gave hope for a better world. The makeable world, as the huiskamerartiest sometimes says. The belief that it could really work. Looking for similarities instead of differences. Gloomy? Certainly! But in darkness, light stands out better. No spotlights at the moment, but all the little points of light like at a concert like stars in the sky.
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.
