Prompt: There is a chasm that cannot be crossed between you and I. If it ever were to be possible, neither of us would recognize each other. That person is long gone.
Prompt: Difficult situations in life seem to disorient me. I find myself wandering around in my garage. Picking things up and putting them down. Like my body is trying to stay busy, but can't think clearly enough to complete a task. It is a strange response.
Prompt: In the image, envision a dimly lit room, perhaps a study or a small space. The center of focus is an old, weathered cabinet door with chipped paint and visible wear. The pain and weariness of life are metaphorically reflected in the aged appearance of the cabinet door. Shadows dance on the surface, emphasizing the complexity of emotions.
As the scene unfolds, there's a subtle but palpable transformation. The cobwebs that once clung to the corners start dissolving, representing the unexpected clarity that arises from profound emotional experiences. The transition from despair to revelation is symbolized by the shifting ambiance within the room.
The room itself echoes a sense of stagnation—familiar surroundings that seem unchanging and trapping. The realization that the true source of discontent lies beyond the tangible objects becomes apparent. It's not the cabinet door or the immediate surroundings that evoke resentment, but a broader dissatisfaction with life's monotony.
In the refined image, consider incorporating subtle elements of change in the background—a hint of light breaking through the darkness, or perhaps a small, vibrant detail that contrasts with the overall muted tones. This signifies the emergence of unexpected, wondrous things in the midst of the gloom, symbolizing the resilience of hope even in the darkest moments.
Prompt: My internal tension tightens as the stress of my circumstances envelope me. I am maintaining a deceptive façade, but at some point I worry cracks will appear in my mask. I do not believe these challenges are more than I can handle, but whether I can handle it all with composure is becoming debatable.
Prompt: The cyclic low of cyclothymic disorder seems to be in effect the last few days. Inexplicable fatigue, depression, and irritation are permeating all of my interactions, although I try to contain it. I feel as if I will have no passion, nor joy ever again. I know this is not real, and it will pass. That does not diminish how real this feels. Every movement of my muscles feels like I'm held back, as if I were trying to move under water. I have to just keep pushing myself forward without any motivation or will to do so. In a day or two, all will be fine again.
Prompt: Far from me, fading slowly
Every time I hurt myself, I push away your help
And you know my soul is empty
Is it suicide or sabotage, you think?
I see it in my blood, it's dripping in the sink
Is it suicide or sabotage, you think?
'Cause I feel you slipping
Prompt: Mid 18th century oil painting based on the explanation of witnessing an atomic blast, as would have been understood by someone of that time period.
Prompt: Pressure like a drip, drip, drip that'll never stop, whoa
Pressure that'll tip, tip, tip 'til you just go pop, whoa, oh, oh
Give it to your sister, it doesn't hurt, and
See if she can handle every family burden
Watch as she buckles and bends but never breaks, no mistakes
Prompt: Acclimation to pain and discomfort comes with time. The pain and discomfort are still real, and still seem to feel the same. The only change is your response both physically and mentally. When someone handles stress poorly or very well, either will make me wonder what level of familiarity that person has with stress. I don't think assumptions are good idea, but background consideration may be. Are they handling things well? Or have they had the burden of having to learn how to mask their emotional response due to overexposure?
Prompt: The fifth angel poured out his bowl on the throne of the beast, and its kingdom was plunged into darkness. People gnawed their tongues in agony and cursed the God of heaven because of their pains and their sores, but they refused to repent of what they had done.
Prompt: Digging in your past for lost secrets. Do you expect to find treasures? Is that what you think you would have buried and hidden? Is it not more likely that suffering is what you buried to try and escape? Keep digging. When you unearth a nightmare, remember the effort you put into seeking it.
Prompt: The mental pressure has accumulated to the point that I fear I may burst into pieces. Physical pain may be the last strand tying my mind to reality.
Prompt: The seventh angel sounded his trumpet, and there were loud voices in heaven, which said: “The kingdom of the world has become the kingdom of our Lord and of his Messiah, and he will reign for ever and ever.” And the twenty-four elders, who were seated on their thrones before God, fell on their faces and worshiped God, saying: “We give thanks to you, Lord God Almighty, the One who is and who was, because you have taken your great power and have begun to reign. The nations were angry, and your wrath has come. The time has come for judging the dead, and for rewarding your servants the prophets and your people who revere your name, both great and small and for destroying those who destroy the earth.” Then God’s temple in heaven was opened, and within his temple was seen the ark of his covenant. And there came flashes of lightning, rumblings, peals of thunder, an earthquake and a severe hailstorm.
Prompt: I watched as he opened the sixth seal. There was a great earthquake. The sun turned black like sackcloth made of goat hair, the whole moon turned blood red, and the stars in the sky fell to earth, as figs drop from a fig tree when shaken by a strong wind. The heavens receded like a scroll being rolled up, and every mountain and island was removed from its place.
Prompt: When I become depressed, it manifests as existential crisis. I am not suffering from lethargy because I am experiencing mental self deprecation. I fail to move because I cannot find or see any reason in anything. Anything I do today will be forgotten by all, including me, by next week. So what point is there to doing anything? Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Whether my name lasts on some art, or just a tombstone, what difference does it make to the ashes? What evidence is there that the time between mattered?
Prompt: I watched as he opened the sixth seal. There was a great earthquake. The sun turned black like sackcloth made of goat hair, the whole moon turned blood red, and the stars in the sky fell to earth, as figs drop from a fig tree when shaken by a strong wind. The heavens receded like a scroll being rolled up, and every mountain and island was removed from its place.
Prompt: I looked, and I saw a windstorm coming out of the north—an immense cloud with flashing lightning and surrounded by brilliant light. The center of the fire looked like glowing metal, and in the fire was what looked like four living creatures. In appearance their form was human, but each of them had four faces and four wings. Their legs were straight; their feet were like those of a calf and gleamed like burnished bronze. Under their wings on their four sides they had human hands. All four of them had faces and wings, and the wings of one touched the wings of another. Each one went straight ahead; they did not turn as they moved. Their faces looked like this: Each of the four had the face of a human being, and on the right side each had the face of a lion, and on the left the face of an ox; each also had the face of an eagle. Such were their faces. They each had two wings spreading out upward, each wing touching that of the creature on either side; and each had two other wings covering its body. The appearance of the living creatures was like burning coals of fire or like torches. Fire moved back and forth among the creatures; it was bright, and lightning flashed out of it.
Prompt: When I finally lose my mind entirely, will all who love me now abandon me? Will others tell them that the person who remains is not the person they loved? Will I be tucked away in a padded room to be forgotten? Who will still be there? Is it me, or some new sentience? Does the mental illness eventually consume the mind and become the consciousness?
Prompt: I looked, and I saw a windstorm coming out of the north—an immense cloud with flashing lightning and surrounded by brilliant light. The center of the fire looked like glowing metal, and in the fire was what looked like four living creatures. In appearance their form was human, but each of them had four faces and four wings. Their legs were straight; their feet were like those of a calf and gleamed like burnished bronze. Under their wings on their four sides they had human hands. All four of them had faces and wings, and the wings of one touched the wings of another. Each one went straight ahead; they did not turn as they moved. Their faces looked like this: Each of the four had the face of a human being, and on the right side each had the face of a lion, and on the left the face of an ox; each also had the face of an eagle. Such were their faces. They each had two wings spreading out upward, each wing touching that of the creature on either side; and each had two other wings covering its body. The appearance of the living creatures was like burning coals of fire or like torches. Fire moved back and forth among the creatures; it was bright, and lightning flashed out of it.
Prompt: Every year I seem to endure the same repeating cycle. In the late winter and early spring, I bemoan the lack of extra work and feel I will never work again. Then summer comes, and I work myself beyond what is reasonable. I over exert myself and start to lose perception of time and reality. Right now, I'm in the middle of the chaos. In my mind, I'm already irritated with my future self that I will again, this next winter, believe there is no work to be had.
Prompt: Anhedonia has reared its head again. While it is cyclical in nature, I have never really been prepared for it. The depression creeps deeper into my soul, minute by minute. Time dilation increases, and each minute feels like hours. It will pass. It always does. However, for now, I crawl along this desert looking for an oasis.
Prompt: The fourth angel poured out his bowl on the sun, and the sun was allowed to scorch people with fire. They were seared by the intense heat and they cursed the name of God, who had control over these plagues, but they refused to repent and glorify him.
Solitude Sanctuary: The Art of Crafting in Seclusion
Model:
AIVision
Size:
1024 X 1024
(1.05 MP)
Used settings:
Prompt: The appeal of self-isolation increases with age. As each day passes, I can hear my garage call to me, louder and louder. To tinker. To make things no one wants. To take apart things that are broke just to see why they are broke. To carve and craft wood and metal. I know I should spend my time in many other ways. Perhaps, someday the behavior will seem more appropriate. As it stands now, it is just a place I sneak away to for a moment of solid. For relaxation that stretches my brain to its limits. I must create. I have no goal of fame nor fortune. Indeed, neither seem appealing. I just need to make things.
Prompt: Mid 18th century oil painting based on the explanation of witnessing an atomic blast, as would have been understood by someone of that time period.
Prompt: I looked, and I saw a windstorm coming out of the north—an immense cloud with flashing lightning and surrounded by brilliant light. The center of the fire looked like glowing metal, and in the fire was what looked like four living creatures. In appearance their form was human, but each of them had four faces and four wings. Their legs were straight; their feet were like those of a calf and gleamed like burnished bronze. Under their wings on their four sides they had human hands. All four of them had faces and wings, and the wings of one touched the wings of another. Each one went straight ahead; they did not turn as they moved. Their faces looked like this: Each of the four had the face of a human being, and on the right side each had the face of a lion, and on the left the face of an ox; each also had the face of an eagle. Such were their faces. They each had two wings spreading out upward, each wing touching that of the creature on either side; and each had two other wings covering its body. The appearance of the living creatures was like burning coals of fire or like torches. Fire moved back and forth among the creatures; it was bright, and lightning flashed out of it.
Prompt: I'm caught in the Catch-22 of OCD today. This is what I refer to it as. I cannot be reassured because no one can PROVE to me that the contamination is not real. I know that it is irrational, but I cannot get confirmation. Well, seeking reassurance seeking will incorporate those I ask into my compulsions. So I have to resist reassurance as there is no relief there... So then I face the irrational... And my brain trips out on the cognitive dissonance... While I wait for the ERP to work. Eventually, my stress should get so high that my brain shuts it off.
Prompt: There is a chasm that cannot be crossed between you and I. If it ever were to be possible, neither of us would recognize each other. That person is long gone.
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.
