Prompt: I'm standing at the edge of a world
I keep searching for this dream
My star keep guiding me
I'll reach into the heavens above
For a moment I can see
But the high is killing me
And I, will break again
Into a million pieces
Yeah, why do I, keep shattering?
I get lost in the pain
My whole life, it never ends
Feels like I'm drowning in the deep end
How can I, exist
When I break into a million pieces?
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: This experience had an effect of shattering my view of the world around me. My efforts to prove any point fell off sharply. Why bother? I had become disillusioned to reality around me. When situations would arise of this nature, I began to just refuse to engage in the debate.
Prompt: To me it feels like there is an important distinction between depression and disillusion. To some I appear to be depressed. The suggested helpful advice is good advice for those who are depressed. I listen, nod, and give scripted responses. Many tactics can help lift the mind out of depression, but they don't seem to have a similar effect on disillusionment. I am not sad or suffering from a chemical imbalance. I am struggling with grasping the triviality of most things in life. I am still doing what is expected. No responsibility is unfulfilled. I merely seem depressed because as I perform my roll, I cannot feign enthusiasm for pushing my boulder up the hill knowing it will roll back down. Over. And over. Forever.
Prompt: The phenomenon of dreams that seem to last weeks from my perception have returned. It is hard to feel rested when you wake after having been gone for a long time. It takes me a little while to resync with what is reality. What was a dream and what are real memories. I get to go on these interesting and surreal journeys to places that have never existed. When I awake after a long journey, I can be disoriented and not sure where I am. The mood of that journey can have reaching effects into my day. If it is traumatic, my day can be disrupted by the very real trauma endured by the mind.
Prompt: As I looked at the living creatures, I saw a wheel on the ground beside each creature with its four faces. This was the appearance and structure of the wheels: They sparkled like topaz, and all four looked alike. Each appeared to be made like a wheel intersecting a wheel. As they moved, they would go in any one of the four directions the creatures faced; the wheels did not change direction as the creatures went. Their rims were high and awesome, and all four rims were full of eyes all around
Prompt: It's yours right, this house with the boarded up doors right. Poor site, like maybe it's mine and you made it in time with the foresight to light a torch, and torch this place. Co-ordinate my life with yours, private wars and a chore to relate in a world that you made full of minor chords. Find the oars, lie in the wake. Quiet your mind, they're lying in wait. They're firing everything all over everywhere, everyone in the asylum is safe.
Prompt: Every day I seem to become aware of some new paradox within my own life. The cognitive dissonance of these realizations is becoming hard to ignore. The systems of life, and indeed my own mind, are becoming a blurred vision. When I point these out to people, the always seem to agree, become disturbed by it, then rapidly forget it entirely. For most people, stability seems to rest on the illusion of certainty. Uncertainty is an unwelcomed virus to be purged. The reality is that uncertainty is all we really have.
Prompt: Life has a way of circling about. Things we experience as children that cause trauma often reappear in our lives as adults. When we were children, the adults that gave us the wisdom that "things will get better" likely knew that because they lived it as a child. Now, we're the adults trying to tell the children things will get better, hoping they hear us.
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: When he opened the seventh seal, there was silence in heaven for about half an hour. And I saw the seven angels who stand before God, and seven trumpets were given to them. Another angel, who had a golden censer, came and stood at the altar. He was given much incense to offer, with the prayers of all God’s people, on the golden altar in front of the throne. The smoke of the incense, together with the prayers of God’s people, went up before God from the angel’s hand. Then the angel took the censer, filled it with fire from the altar, and hurled it on the earth; and there came peals of thunder, rumblings, flashes of lightning and an earthquake.
Prompt: The ebb and flow of cyclothymic disorder are an interesting wave to ride. I'm not certain I dislike the highs nor the lows, even though they both come with a myriad of issues. I like the art I make when up. I like the things I write when down. Perhaps it is just finding a silver lining in the wave I have no choice in riding?
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 first angel sounded his trumpet, and there came hail and fire mixed with blood, and it was hurled down on the earth. A third of the earth was burned up, a third of the trees were burned up, and all the green grass was burned up.
Prompt: “The pain, so unexpected and undeserved, had for some reason cleared away the cobwebs. I realized I didn’t hate the cabinet door, I hated my life… My house, my family, my backyard, my power mower. Nothing would ever change; nothing new could ever be expected. It had to end, and it did. Now in the dark world where I dwell, ugly things, and surprising things, and sometimes little wondrous things, spill out in me constantly, and I can count on nothing.”
Prompt: Sometimes in life we feel the weight of the entire world on our shoulders. Then, we eventually realize that no one put it there. We took it all because we did not trust anyone. So, we became angry with a burden that no one asked us to bear. And we will do it again.
Prompt: This experience had an effect of shattering my view of the world around me. My efforts to prove any point fell off sharply. Why bother? I had become disillusioned to reality around me. When situations would arise of this nature, I began to just refuse to engage in the debate.
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: Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (OCD) can be likened to an intricate and relentless maze within the mind, where thoughts and actions are governed by an unyielding set of rules and rituals. Picture a room filled with buzzing insects, each representing a persistent, intrusive thought. These thoughts swarm around your consciousness, demanding attention and adherence to specific patterns.
Now, imagine a meticulous craftsman tirelessly at work, meticulously arranging and rearranging a set of tools on a wooden workbench. This craftsman symbolizes the compulsions that follow the obsessive thoughts – repetitive actions undertaken to ease the anxiety brought forth by the buzzing swarm of intrusive ideas. The process is intricate, demanding precision and order, akin to the need for strict routines in the life of someone with OCD.
The disorder paints a mental landscape where the boundaries between what's reasonable and irrational blur, and navigating through this intricate maze becomes a constant challenge. Each step is calculated, every action driven by an internal force that insists on compliance with the rules, even when they seem irrational to an outsider.
In essence, OCD can be visualized as a never-ending dance between the relentless swarm of thoughts and the meticulous rituals performed to create a semblance of control. The image encapsulates the struggle of an individual caught in the intricate web of their mind, where the buzzing of thoughts and the meticulous dance of compulsions shape the landscape of their daily existence.
Prompt: However, I have noticed that the senses are sometimes deceptive; and it is a mark of prudence never to place our complete trust in those who have deceived us even once.
Prompt: The sixth angel sounded his trumpet, and I heard a voice coming from the four horns of the golden altar that is before God. It said to the sixth angel who had the trumpet, “Release the four angels who are bound at the great river Euphrates.” And the four angels who had been kept ready for this very hour and day and month and year were released to kill a third of mankind. The number of the mounted troops was twice ten thousand times ten thousand. I heard their number.
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.
