Prompt: Reading Descartes' thoughts is interesting. Some, I agree with the path, but not the conclusion. Others, the conclusion is sound, but the math that got him there seems... Illogical.
Prompt: It has been said, "if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you." If you scream into the abyss, can anything other than an echo come back? "He who fights with monsters should be careful lest he thereby becomes a monster." In a similar sense, as I struggle to be understood, am I losing the ability to understand others?
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: 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: 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?
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 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 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: 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: 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 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: I am learning that I am not actually forgetful. Instead, it appears I am one of few people who truly remembers things. Through notes, videos, writings, I can confirm the past is as I remember it, and I remember it vividly. When talking to others, they seem to have a general and common misunderstanding of events. A rolling amnesia. Proving myself correct holds little value and changes no minds. What felt like intentional gas lighting now seems to be a genuine forgetfulness of reality, and adamant adherence to it. In the end, it leaves me feeling insane. Alone in a world, where I can prove what I'm saying, but am generally dismissed by all. Even if I were to get this message to someone, because I have at times with several individuals, by the next day they remember only the vaguest idea of it. A few days go by. Then nothing at all. I remain utterly alone. With the burden of being aware of it.
Prompt: The picture is of Locusts. Those locusts looked like horses prepared for battle. On the locust's heads they wore something like crowns of gold. The locust's faces resembled human faces. The locust's hair was like women's hair. The locust's teeth were like lions' teeth. The locusts had breastplates like breastplates of iron. The sound of the locust's wings was like the thundering of many horses and chariots rushing into battle. The locusts had tails and stings like scorpions, and in those tails they had power to torment people for five months. Include a separate entity that the locusts had as king over them "the Angel of the Abyss", whose name in Hebrew is "אֲבַדּוֹן", and in Greek, "Ἀπολλύων".
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.
The Vanishing Self: A Journey Through Mental Illness
Model:
AIVision
Size:
1024 X 1024
(1.05 MP)
Used settings:
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: Today I am overwhelmed by the feeling, and evidence, that I am a statistical outlier. That is not a comment on whether it is good or bad. Only that I am experiencing the existential stress of feeling like there is no where I necessarily belong or fit neatly. That is less about solely what goes on in my mind, but about how I behave. The things I choose to do. The pursuits that captivate me. There are pros and cons, for sure. But it is very lonely. Perhaps it is why my mind is so tenuously connected to reality. It is just one of those days where I may be "here," but I sure don't feel like it.
Prompt: Obsessive Compulsive Disorder is marked by heightened anxiety and misplaced anxiety. That part of the mind is over reactive. The result for some of us seems to be a failure to have appropriate fear or anxiety in other situations. Perhaps it is still there, but is very faint when compared the the anxiety reactions endured on a daily basis. I can overcome fears that do occur intensely as well. Because I have to do that to do normal everyday things. Doing something dangerous is not really different because my brain evaluates it the same as when I'm afraid to touch a door handle. Often others will think I don't have fear, but the reality is that it is so normal that I become desensitized by over exposure. I get in dangerous situations because I do not recognize the fear when it is appropriate. It is background noise.
Prompt: The Nephilim were on the earth in those days—and also afterward—when the sons of God went in to the daughters of humans, who bore children to them. These were the heroes that were of old, warriors of renown.
Nephilims are described as giants and mighty men.
God presides in the great assembly; he renders judgment among the “gods”: “How long will you defend the unjust and show partiality to the wicked? Defend the weak and the fatherless; uphold the cause of the poor and the oppressed. Rescue the weak and the needy; deliver them from the hand of the wicked. “The ‘gods’ know nothing, they understand nothing. They walk about in darkness; all the foundations of the earth are shaken. “I said, ‘You are “gods”; you are all sons of the Most High.’ But you will die like mere mortals; you will fall like every other ruler.” Rise up, O God, judge the earth, for all the nations are your inheritance.
Prompt: I am learning that I am not actually forgetful. Instead, it appears I am one of few people who truly remembers things. Through notes, videos, writings, I can confirm the past is as I remember it, and I remember it vividly. When talking to others, they seem to have a general and common misunderstanding of events. A rolling amnesia. Proving myself correct holds little value and changes no minds. What felt like intentional gas lighting now seems to be a genuine forgetfulness of reality, and adamant adhere to it. In the end, it leaves me feeling insane. Alone in a world, where I can prove what I'm saying, but am generally dismissed by all. Even if I were to get this message to someone, because I have at times with several individuals, by the next day they remember only the vaguest idea of it. A few days go by. Then nothing at all. I remain utterly alone. With the burden of being aware of it.
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?
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.
