Prompt: The Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words.
Prompt: I will not fail to speak of Leviathan’s limbs, its strength and its graceful form. Who can strip off its outer coat? Who can penetrate its double coat of armor? Who dares open the doors of its mouth, ringed about with fearsome teeth? Its back has[b]rows of shields tightly sealed together; each is so close to the next that no air can pass between. They are joined fast to one another; they cling together and cannot be parted. Its snorting throws out flashes of light; its eyes are like the rays of dawn. Flames stream from its mouth; sparks of fire shoot out. Smoke pours from its nostrils as from a boiling pot over burning reeds. Its breath sets coals ablaze, and flames dart from its mouth. Strength resides in its neck; dismay goes before it. The folds of its flesh are tightly joined; they are firm and immovable. Its chest is hard as rock, hard as a lower millstone. When it rises up, the mighty are terrified; they retreat before its thrashing. The sword that reaches it has no effect, nor does the spear or the dart or the javelin. Iron it treats like straw and bronze like rotten wood. Arrows do not make it flee; slingstones are like chaff to it. A club seems to it but a piece of straw; it laughs at the rattling of the lance. Its undersides are jagged potsherds, leaving a trail in the mud like a threshing sledge. It makes the depths churn like a boiling caldron and stirs up the sea like a pot of ointment. It leaves a glistening wake behind it; one would think the deep had white hair. Nothing on earth is its equal— a creature without fear. It looks down on all that are haughty; it is king over all that are proud.
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: I am on a life long quest for answers. I carry the weight of knowing I will never have all the answers I seek. Clothed with the ambivalence of knowing that if I did somehow find those answers, they would only beget another question.
Prompt: What are the nuances that differentiate: Overthinking, thinking, ruminating, pondering, obsessing, fixating, or brainstorming? Like most things in life, the answer seems to be only the perspective of the person speaking.
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.
Prompt: In a dimly lit, abandoned house, shadows cling to the walls, and a heavy silence envelops the space. An overwhelming sense of loneliness and despair permeates the air, evoking deep unease.
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: My mind is a cluttered ADHD mess. CycD oscillates my mood and opinion of being noticed or unnoticed. OCD makes me obsess. So, in the end, I think my brain is just doing what it is algorithmically most likely to do, and my rational concentrated mind is here on the sidelines telling all the voices to calm down. It’s like I'm running a highly sophisticated but chaotic committee, with my rational mind playing the exhausted chairperson, trying to maintain order amidst a room full of very enthusiastic—and occasionally disruptive—members.
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: With so many tasks to do, and so little mental space to organize, I keep finding it is most productive to endlessly keep moving, rather than stop and try to prioritize, as I get overwhelmed and confused.
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: 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: 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 will not fail to speak of Leviathan’s limbs, its strength and its graceful form. Who can strip off its outer coat? Who can penetrate its double coat of armor? Who dares open the doors of its mouth, ringed about with fearsome teeth? Its back has[b]rows of shields tightly sealed together; each is so close to the next that no air can pass between. They are joined fast to one another; they cling together and cannot be parted. Its snorting throws out flashes of light; its eyes are like the rays of dawn. Flames stream from its mouth; sparks of fire shoot out. Smoke pours from its nostrils as from a boiling pot over burning reeds. Its breath sets coals ablaze, and flames dart from its mouth. Strength resides in its neck; dismay goes before it. The folds of its flesh are tightly joined; they are firm and immovable. Its chest is hard as rock, hard as a lower millstone. When it rises up, the mighty are terrified; they retreat before its thrashing. The sword that reaches it has no effect, nor does the spear or the dart or the javelin. Iron it treats like straw and bronze like rotten wood. Arrows do not make it flee; slingstones are like chaff to it. A club seems to it but a piece of straw; it laughs at the rattling of the lance. Its undersides are jagged potsherds, leaving a trail in the mud like a threshing sledge. It makes the depths churn like a boiling caldron and stirs up the sea like a pot of ointment. It leaves a glistening wake behind it; one would think the deep had white hair. Nothing on earth is its equal— a creature without fear. It looks down on all that are haughty; it is king over all that are proud.
Prompt: In all of my thinking and analyzing, have I become distant from myself? That sentence may seem odd, but it makes sense to me. Have I pursued logic and understanding to a fault and has the path strayed me too far from personal relevance?
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.
