Prompt: Portrait of a beautiful girl with long, dark hair and glasses. She is wearing a t-shirt with the Atari logo on it. She is looking directly at the camera, with a sexy, innocent and contagious smile. Behind her is a colorful mural inspired by the 80s game Space Invaders. The scene is cheerful, retro and nostalgic.
Prompt: Italian actress with vibrant 80's red hair, intricate tattoos on arms featuring the Sega Genesis logo, styled in an open bomber jacket revealing a sporty bra, adorned with fingerless gloves, multiple earrings on each ear, sporting iconic 1980's Air Jordans, donning Japanese logo shorts. Set in the 1980's downtown of Louisville, KY, capturing the essence of the era with neon lights, retro storefronts, vintage cars, and bustling streets. Character design and illustration by the renowned Japanese artist Suehiro Maruto. Rich color palette of neon pinks, blues, and purples, dynamic lighting to enhance the urban atmosphere, detailed linework and shading for a visually striking composition.
Prompt: A badass Yakuza fighter with a faded haircut and chinstrap goatee. Wearing a grey suit with an unbuttoned satin cobalt blue shirt. Cyberpunk aesthetic.
Prompt: A young thin woman with light skin tone and long black hair sitting on a chair, playing video games in 1990 while wearing loose fitting white tshirt and shorts. Retro style.
Prompt: A video game console, shown upon whose screen are two pink-haired sprites wearing tie-dye kaftans. The sprites are bounced about the screen by two bats.
Prompt: A hyper-saturated, psychedelic carnival of chaos sprawls across the canvas, centered around a grotesque mashup of pop culture icons and dark Americana. In the foreground, a twisted version of Mickey Mouse is slouched in a dirty recliner, veins bulging with technicolor syringes labeled “Happiness,” “Fame,” and “Followers.” His eyes are bloodshot spirals, and he’s laughing hysterically as dollar bills rain down like confetti.
Behind him, Jesus in aviator sunglasses and a Hawaiian shirt is flipping burgers on a flaming grill shaped like a golden calf. Smoke billows up into the sky, forming distorted corporate logos and demonic cartoon characters. Ronald McDonald, dressed as a televangelist, preaches into a microphone, standing atop a broken iPhone altar surrounded by zombified children staring blankly at tablets.
To the left, a Marilyn Monroe android with glowing eyes and exposed circuitry seductively poses beside a Las Vegas-style slot machine that dispenses pills instead of coins. Elvis, half-skeleton and half-Elon Musk, floats in a hover-chair above the chaos, tweeting into a megaphone while his other robotic arm cradles a swaddled baby labeled “NFT.”
The background is a riot of melting skyscrapers, barbed wire wrapped in Christmas lights, and a collapsing Hollywood sign being eaten by rats in tuxedos. The sky is a vomitous swirl of candy pinks and radioactive greens, with giant eyes peering down from clouds shaped like nuclear mushroom clouds.
Every surface is crawling with hidden imagery: screaming faces in coffee stains, pornographic doodles inside cereal box mascots, and small American flags sprouting like weeds from cracked pavement. The whole scene pulses with cynical energy, like a hallucinogenic dream of modern culture’s decay—vivid, hilarious, and horrifying all at once.
Prompt: Create a hyper-violent reinterpretation of Barney, the purple dinosaur, set in a dystopian, horror-filled world. Portray Barney as a menacing, bloodthirsty entity with a grotesque, monstrous appearance—think jagged teeth, glowing red eyes, and a tattered, decaying costume dripping with dark, viscous ichor. His personality is unhinged, sadistic, and utterly devoid of his former kindness, reveling in chaos and terror. Emphasize gory details, psychological horror, and a pervasive sense of dread, while avoiding any trace of his original cheerful or educational nature. The tone should be dark, visceral, and deeply unsettling, inspired by extreme horror genres.
Prompt: a bowl of evil frozen fruit on fire exploding into babies, highly detailed and realistic, in melted crayon, at sunset, laser show, fireworks, lazer tag, metal album cover,, psychedelic, LSD, neon, watercolor art, by HR Giger, Stephen Gammell, Rob Liefield, Gerald Brom, Lisa Frank, Salvador Dali, Van Gogh, John Avon, Chesley Bonestell, Ralph McQuarrie, Ron Spencer
Prompt: On those nights where the sweet poisons
Of loneliness running through the streets
I love to spoil myself.
One breathes duller and one has visions
And black spiders come out of the street holes
In the haze of red wine, snot and greed.
The tired hookers are leaning against the doors
Like rotten fruit, crushable and spoiled.
Music sounds from the ideal worlds.
The air is filled with syphilis boils,
And in the four-poster beds the lust has died,
The far too many ordered to the menu.
In these nights a longing grabs me
That comes like a fire to all the crap
And wander through the tangles of my soul.
But I'm not trying to catch myself
'Cause it sure is a crime
Not to be as broken as everyone else.
Dead people hang on some window crosses,
Who won't die for a year or two.
Life drains away down the gutter.
A salvation armist reads the ten commandments.
You are fed up and lie down to die.
But there is not enough time even to die.
A people in agony, and yet it lives
Under the mask dead like those fish
Which shine again just before they end.
And in the last few moves it floats
Once more over the swamp in all freshness
And shows you radian
Prompt: On those nights where the sweet poisons
Of loneliness running through the streets
I love to spoil myself.
One breathes duller and one has visions
And black spiders come out of the street holes
In the haze of red wine, snot and greed.
The tired hookers are leaning against the doors
Like rotten fruit, crushable and spoiled.
Music sounds from the ideal worlds.
The air is filled with syphilis boils,
And in the four-poster beds the lust has died,
The far too many ordered to the menu.
In these nights a longing grabs me
That comes like a fire to all the crap
And wander through the tangles of my soul.
But I'm not trying to catch myself
'Cause it sure is a crime
Not to be as broken as everyone else.
Dead people hang on some window crosses,
Who won't die for a year or two.
Life drains away down the gutter.
A salvation armist reads the ten commandments.
You are fed up and lie down to die.
But there is not enough time even to die.
A people in agony, and yet it lives
Under the mask dead like those fish
Which shine again just before they end.
And in the last few moves it floats
Once more over the swamp in all freshness
And shows you radian
Prompt: Oh freddled gruntbuggly,
Thy micturations are to me, (with big yawning)
As plurdled gabbleblotchits, in midsummer morning
On a lurgid bee,
That mordiously hath blurted out,
Its earted jurtles, grumbling
Into a rancid festering confectious organ squealer. [drowned out by moaning and screaming]
Now the jurpling slayjid agrocrustles,
Are slurping hagrilly up the axlegrurts,
And living glupules frart and stipulate,
Like jowling meated liverslime,
Groop, I implore thee, my foonting turlingdromes,
And hooptiously drangle me,
With crinkly bindlewurdles,mashurbitries.
Or else I shall rend thee in the gobberwarts with my blurglecruncheon,
See if I don't!
Prompt: {"Cat's guide how to conquer your mortal enemy : weird to the wild ucanny valley effect visor, in the form of a duck face"_"Insane in the Membrane" by: David Cronenberg's Seurat, Redon, Turner, Beksinski}_{Contamination of thousand creepy fingers in Beksinski's style in the shape of comically grotesquely whimsical Hellish_Slinky_Maggot_Syringe, with red googly eyes and titanium chattering teeth, Oversized Jumbo Fake Ears, Panic!, singing jiggly brain, it will grow out of hell spawn and with all that anger against life. Elements of photorealism in a truncated hyper-surreal scene. Blended art style in one by: Molzahn, Hockney, Caulfield, Craig-Martin, Voynich, Luigi Serafini, dystopian bio horror feeling}_{Inspired by The Andromeda Strain (1971) and Luigi Cozzi's movie Contamination (1980)}
Prompt: A sultry
Southern belle
in a sensuous
Summer smock
Offers a
plastic Shark Chalice
- brimming with blood -
and I'm consumed
by Her
Cavalier.
The glove compartment lays open
upon my lap, panting
Russian science friction
into the
damp heaviness.
Beyond the Elysian fields
A pup places
his pissy paws
Upon my panting lap
I'm told that
He eats
pens and panties
And peeps
into Alternate Dimensions of denim.
See you soon pup!
Now we revolve,
Sipping
Gin 'n eggs
And improvising
high
coups.
She waves a red fan
Clearing the smoke-filled air for
Act Two,
which shall unravel
Calliope-slow...
Mirror grotesques
and iron railings
will be unveiled
Ordered forcefully from the depths of dizzy Disney
memories.
We'll return to the Mississippi
Where the full
orange
Moon
- with cloud-shrouded mystery -
Shall command
of us, forcefully:
Look at Me! See!
Through technicolored 'splosions
Swirling
war-story glories
Beneath the stars
Above bumbling barges
Behold me! Be reborn!
Behind us,
A child will howl:
"This is the best Fourth of July ever!"
Above the brass whoops,
Vibrating animal hides, and
Frightened car alarms,
heat.
like
rises
Her laughter
Her eyes a pale blue
waterline
rippled with hints of semi aquatic
Wildness
Through us,
Screaming golden pillars of
White-hot light
Rise
from Earthen
roots
Up
to kiss her
Lunar boots.
Shadow of the hornless beast
Babble on,
Bobble-Head
Corpus Christi
Pez dispenser
Mary hath casteth thee
from Flowering Hands,
mellifluously
A malevolent miracle
Beneath the flood lights
Beaming upon
another Holy
facade.
She told me
I would dream
Of desperate-for-love
cake Baby
kings
Yet it's Seven a.m.
In New Orleans
and
Life is but a Dream
that mustn't
Fall
to
Sleep
Prompt: Putrid scalding razor wire multi colored eyes spellcaster violent magic lost bullets graveyard full moon hateful crackhead user fires claws revolting creeping death violence infinity ring musty dark water lighting storm
Prompt: Fill 'em with the venom, and eliminate 'em
Other words, I Minute Maid 'em
I don't wanna hurt 'em, but I did, I'm in a fit of rage
I'm murderin' again, nobody will evade
I'm finna kill 'em, I'm dumpin' their fuckin' bodies in the lake
Obliteratin' everything, incinerate a renegade
I'm here to make anybody who want it with the pen afraid
But don't nobody want it but they're gonna get it anyway
'Cause I'm beginnin' to feel like I'm mentally ill
I'm Atilla, kill or be killed, I'm a killer bee, the vanilla gorilla
You're bringin' the killer within me, out of me
You don't want to be the enemy of the demon
Who went in me, and be on the receiving of me, what stupidity it'd be
Every bit of me is the epitome of a spitter
Prompt: A hyper-saturated, psychedelic carnival of chaos sprawls across the canvas, centered around a grotesque mashup of pop culture icons and dark Americana. In the foreground, a twisted version of Mickey Mouse is slouched in a dirty recliner, veins bulging with technicolor syringes labeled “Happiness,” “Fame,” and “Followers.” His eyes are bloodshot spirals, and he’s laughing hysterically as dollar bills rain down like confetti. Behind him, Jesus in aviator sunglasses and a Hawaiian shirt is flipping burgers on a flaming grill shaped like a golden calf. Smoke billows up into the sky, forming distorted corporate logos and demonic cartoon characters. Ronald McDonald, dressed as a televangelist, preaches into a microphone, standing atop a broken iPhone altar surrounded by zombified children staring blankly at tablets. To the left, a Marilyn Monroe android with glowing eyes and exposed circuitry seductively poses beside a Las Vegas-style slot machine that dispenses pills instead of coins. Elvis, half-skeleton and half-Elon Musk, floats in a hover-chair above the chaos, tweeting into a megaphone while his other robotic arm cradles a swaddled baby labeled “NFT.” The background is a riot of melting skyscrapers, barbed wire wrapped in Christmas lights, and a collapsing Hollywood sign being eaten by rats in tuxedos. The sky is a vomitous swirl of candy pinks and radioactive greens, with giant eyes peering down from clouds shaped like nuclear mushroom clouds. Every surface is crawling with hidden imagery: screaming faces in coffee stains, pornographic doodles inside cereal box mascots, and small American flags sprouting like weeds from cracked pavement. The whole scene pulses with cynical energy, like a hallucinogenic dream of modern culture’s decay—vivid, hilarious, and horrifying all at once.
Prompt: A hyper-saturated, psychedelic carnival of chaos sprawls across the canvas, centered around a grotesque mashup of pop culture icons and dark Americana. In the foreground, a twisted version of Mickey Mouse is slouched in a dirty recliner, veins bulging with technicolor syringes labeled “Happiness,” “Fame,” and “Followers.” His eyes are bloodshot spirals, and he’s laughing hysterically as dollar bills rain down like confetti. Behind him, Jesus in aviator sunglasses and a Hawaiian shirt is flipping burgers on a flaming grill shaped like a golden calf. Smoke billows up into the sky, forming distorted corporate logos and demonic cartoon characters. Ronald McDonald, dressed as a televangelist, preaches into a microphone, standing atop a broken iPhone altar surrounded by zombified children staring blankly at tablets. To the left, a Marilyn Monroe android with glowing eyes and exposed circuitry seductively poses beside a Las Vegas-style slot machine that dispenses pills instead of coins. Elvis, half-skeleton and half-Elon Musk, floats in a hover-chair above the chaos, tweeting into a megaphone while his other robotic arm cradles a swaddled baby labeled “NFT.” The background is a riot of melting skyscrapers, barbed wire wrapped in Christmas lights, and a collapsing Hollywood sign being eaten by rats in tuxedos. The sky is a vomitous swirl of candy pinks and radioactive greens, with giant eyes peering down from clouds shaped like nuclear mushroom clouds. Every surface is crawling with hidden imagery: screaming faces in coffee stains, pornographic doodles inside cereal box mascots, and small American flags sprouting like weeds from cracked pavement. The whole scene pulses with cynical energy, like a hallucinogenic dream of modern culture’s decay—vivid, hilarious, and horrifying all at once.
Prompt: A smorgasbord of bored smorgs, a crazy clump of clobber. A hairy hound turned upside down and a bucket full off water, a hated place a screaming grace a coward to the slaughter
Prompt: "Words flowing like a polluted river, changing course through a trash-filled landscape, carrying fragmented stories with unseen force, whispered pleas echoing in a decaying urban environment, ripples expanding across a toxic waste pool, fluvial dissemination, stochastic variance, semantic transmutations, polysemous confluence, failing denotative delineations, meaning's essence exhaling through cracked concrete, girls in ripped bikinis with rusted anchor tattoos submerged in the river, featherless owls with rusted anchor tattoos perched on decaying industrial machinery, urban decay, polluted water, distorted reflections, dark and gritty, highly detailed."
Prompt: A nightmarish, neon-splattered hellscape unfolds across the canvas—half funhouse, half battlefield—painted in acidic reds, bruised purples, and toxic greens. In the center, a bloated, grinning Uncle Sam towers like a demented god, his face peeling to reveal a skull made of rusted assault rifles and dollar signs. His hat is a cracked TV screen flashing "OBEY" in glitched lettering, and blood drips from his fingertips onto a pile of screaming infants wrapped in fast food wrappers and American flags.
To his left, a feral Barbie doll with shark teeth and hollow eyes rips chunks of flesh from a smiling cartoon dog that bleeds glitter and oil. Her body is covered in bruises, censorship stickers, and brand logos like tattoos from hell. Her long blonde hair coils like snakes, each strand whispering slurs and ad jingles in invisible text.
In the background, a strip mall cathedral burns in reverse—flames climbing downward into a pit of iPads, crucified influencers, and bleeding vinyl records. McDonald’s arches hang upside down like a crucifix, oozing yellow pus onto a mob of zombified consumers with bleeding eyes and credit cards for tongues.
A mutant hybrid of SpongeBob and Charles Manson sits cross-legged at the base of the scene, carving TikTok logos into his own face with a selfie stick, his mouth permanently frozen in a distorted influencer smile. Around him, the ground is crawling with decaying mascots: a headless Tony the Tiger wielding a chainsaw, a weeping Ronald McDonald cradling a fetus in a clown shoe, and the Kool-Aid Man vomiting black tar over a cemetery of forgotten childhoods.
Above it all, a night sky pulses with giant surveillance eyes, veins bulging and blinking in sync with heartbeat monitor lines. A UFO made of stitched-together Amazon boxes beams up crying children while playing the national anthem in reverse.
Thick as a brick Celestial Fusion: Nature's Surreal Harmony
Model:
AIVision
Size:
1024 X 1024
(1.05 MP)
Used settings:
Prompt: Really don't mind if you sit this one out
My words but a whisper your deafness a shout
I may make you feel but I can't make you think
Your sperm's in the gutter, your love's in the sink
So you ride yourselves over the fields and
You make all your animal deals and
Your wise men don't know how it feels
To be thick as a brick
And the sand-castle virtues are all swept away in
The tidal destruction, the moral melee
The elastic retreat rings the close of play
As the last wave uncovers the newfangled way
But your new shoes are worn at the heels and
Your suntan does rapidly peel and
Your wise men don't know how it feels
To be thick as a brick
And the love that I feel, is so far away
I'm a bad dream that I just had today and you
Shake your head and
Say it's a shame
Spin me back down the years
And the days of my youth
Draw the lace and black curtains
And shut out the whole truth
Spin me down the long ages, let them sing the song
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.
