Prompt: The sun dips low, casting golden hues across the sky, as soft brushstrokes of pink and lavender stretch out from the horizon. A vast, empty canvas of deepening blues and gentle oranges, where the last light clings to the day, yet leaves shadows in the folds of the land. The mountains rise like ancient sentinels in the distance, their peaks softened by a misty haze, as if painted in layers of muted grays and purples.
In the foreground, the hills roll gently, a patchwork of vibrant greens and earth tones where a small farm nestles. The farmhouse, a simple silhouette against the fading light, is touched with the faintest blush of orange. Fields curve like ribbons, brushstrokes of golden wheat and dark, shadowed soil that hint at the work of the day. A fence winds along the hill, its white posts standing as quiet sentinels against the setting sun, each stroke a whisper of time passed.
Above, the sky turns slowly, the sun a melting orb of warmth, leaving traces of color that fade into the cool of evening. The light shifts, and the landscape transforms—edges soften, shapes blend, and the world becomes a dream, a fleeting moment captured in the fleeting brush of twilight
Prompt: The garden unfolded like a dream, bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun. Flowers bloomed in vibrant hues, each one shimmering as if dusted with gold and rainbow sparkles. The petals seemed delicate and ethereal, glowing with warmth as the light danced across their surfaces, shifting colors from ruby reds to sapphire blues to soft lavender. It was as though the garden itself was dusted with stardust, a gentle, magical glow radiating from each blossom.
Butterflies flitted gracefully through the air, their wings like fragile stained glass—translucent and shimmering. They fluttered in slow arcs, pausing on flowers to rest, adding a sense of delicate movement to the serene landscape. The air was warm with the scent of the blooms, carrying a quiet hum of life as they swayed with the breeze.
Winding stone paths meandered between the vibrant flower beds, guiding the eye toward a distant horizon where the sun dipped below the trees, casting long, golden rays across the sky. The sky softened with hues of pink, orange, and purple, as twilight slowly began to claim the day. In the distance, an ancient oak tree stood tall, silhouetted against the fading light, a silent sentinel in the peaceful garden.
The sounds of the evening—the gentle rustle of leaves, the distant calls of birds, the soft flutter of butterfly wings—created a tranquil symphony. The entire scene felt timeless, as though suspended between two worlds: the waking day and the quiet of night. It was a perfect moment, where nature and magic intertwined in a dance of light, color, and fleeting beauty.
Prompt: The sun dips low, casting golden hues across the sky, as soft brushstrokes of pink and lavender stretch out from the horizon. A vast, empty canvas of deepening blues and gentle oranges, where the last light clings to the day, yet leaves shadows in the folds of the land. The mountains rise like ancient sentinels in the distance, their peaks softened by a misty haze, as if painted in layers of muted grays and purples.
In the foreground, the hills roll gently, a patchwork of vibrant greens and earth tones where a small farm nestles. The farmhouse, a simple silhouette against the fading light, is touched with the faintest blush of orange. Fields curve like ribbons, brushstrokes of golden wheat and dark, shadowed soil that hint at the work of the day. A fence winds along the hill, its white posts standing as quiet sentinels against the setting sun, each stroke a whisper of time passed.
Above, the sky turns slowly, the sun a melting orb of warmth, leaving traces of color that fade into the cool of evening. The light shifts, and the landscape transforms—edges soften, shapes blend, and the world becomes a dream, a fleeting moment captured in the fleeting brush of twilight
Prompt: The garden unfolded like a dream, bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun. Flowers bloomed in vibrant hues, each one shimmering as if dusted with gold and rainbow sparkles. The petals seemed delicate and ethereal, glowing with warmth as the light danced across their surfaces, shifting colors from ruby reds to sapphire blues to soft lavender. It was as though the garden itself was dusted with stardust, a gentle, magical glow radiating from each blossom.
Butterflies flitted gracefully through the air, their wings like fragile stained glass—translucent and shimmering. They fluttered in slow arcs, pausing on flowers to rest, adding a sense of delicate movement to the serene landscape. The air was warm with the scent of the blooms, carrying a quiet hum of life as they swayed with the breeze.
Winding stone paths meandered between the vibrant flower beds, guiding the eye toward a distant horizon where the sun dipped below the trees, casting long, golden rays across the sky. The sky softened with hues of pink, orange, and purple, as twilight slowly began to claim the day. In the distance, an ancient oak tree stood tall, silhouetted against the fading light, a silent sentinel in the peaceful garden.
The sounds of the evening—the gentle rustle of leaves, the distant calls of birds, the soft flutter of butterfly wings—created a tranquil symphony. The entire scene felt timeless, as though suspended between two worlds: the waking day and the quiet of night. It was a perfect moment, where nature and magic intertwined in a dance of light, color, and fleeting beauty.
Prompt: Apologies for that! Here’s a more concise version of the ballerina coming to life, under 2000 characters:
A Ballerina Coming to Life
In the quiet of an artist’s studio, a painting of a ballerina hangs on the wall. She is captured mid-dance, her form graceful and delicate, painted in soft, flowing strokes. Her tutu swirls around her, and her eyes are distant, lost in a world of her own.
The room is still, bathed in the soft glow of twilight, the only sound the faint hum of the wind through the window.
Suddenly, the painted ballerina stirs.
The brushstrokes shimmer as if touched by an unseen hand, and slowly, her painted limbs twitch. The edges of her form blur, dissolving into light. Her fingers, once stiff in the painting, now curl gently as if waking from a dream. Her legs, once frozen in motion, bend and stretch, gaining a lifelike grace.
A soft, golden glow pulses around her as the paint melts away, revealing skin and fabric. The ballerina steps off the canvas, her feet making no sound as they touch the floor. She stands tall and graceful, her movements fluid and effortless as she takes a step forward.
With a soft spin, she begins to dance, her movements light and airy, as if she has always been alive. The faint shimmer of paint still clings to her, a halo of colors swirling with every graceful turn. The room is filled with her quiet dance, a painting made real, bringing magic into the stillness of the studio.
Prompt: A vast garden stretches out beneath a star-filled sky, bathed in the soft, silver glow of the full moon. The air is crisp, tinged with the scent of jasmine and lavender. Tall, ancient trees with sweeping branches form a protective canopy, their leaves rustling gently in the cool evening breeze. The ground is covered in soft, vibrant green grass, dotted with colorful flowers that shimmer in the moonlight—roses, daisies, and wildflowers that sway as if dancing in tune with the wind.
In the center of the garden, a serene pond reflects the luminous moon above, its surface smooth and still like glass, broken only by the occasional ripple from a small fish or falling leaf. A stone pathway winds its way through the garden, leading to a wooden gazebo perched at the edge of the pond. The gazebo, draped in soft ivy, is illuminated by hanging lanterns, their flickering light casting warm, golden hues on the surroundings.
A delicate fountain rests near the gazebo, its water trickling softly into a small stone basin, creating a peaceful melody that blends with the rustling leaves. Above, the sky deepens into indigo, the stars becoming brighter, almost as if they are whispering secrets to the earth below.
The world is still—everything seems suspended in time, as though this moonlit garden exists in its own enchanted realm.
Prompt: A vast garden stretches out beneath a star-filled sky, bathed in the soft, silver glow of the full moon. The air is crisp, tinged with the scent of jasmine and lavender. Tall, ancient trees with sweeping branches form a protective canopy, their leaves rustling gently in the cool evening breeze. The ground is covered in soft, vibrant green grass, dotted with colorful flowers that shimmer in the moonlight—roses, daisies, and wildflowers that sway as if dancing in tune with the wind.
In the center of the garden, a serene pond reflects the luminous moon above, its surface smooth and still like glass, broken only by the occasional ripple from a small fish or falling leaf. A stone pathway winds its way through the garden, leading to a wooden gazebo perched at the edge of the pond. The gazebo, draped in soft ivy, is illuminated by hanging lanterns, their flickering light casting warm, golden hues on the surroundings.
A delicate fountain rests near the gazebo, its water trickling softly into a small stone basin, creating a peaceful melody that blends with the rustling leaves. Above, the sky deepens into indigo, the stars becoming brighter, almost as if they are whispering secrets to the earth below.
The world is still—everything seems suspended in time, as though this moonlit garden exists in its own enchanted realm.
Prompt: Mia had always felt different. Not in the way kids claim to be “special,” but in a quieter, more unsettling way. She was an orphan, alone in the world, her parents gone when she was young. No relatives, no family reunions—just Mia. Alone. But she was used to it.
At seventeen, she was a thin, silent figure with sadness in her eyes. She often wandered the city, lost in thought, unsure of what she was searching for. It was the only time she felt free—away from the orphanage, away from pitying glances. Just the streets, the night, and her.
One evening, as she wandered an unfamiliar alley, Mia found something strange. A black puddle, glistening as if it had a life of its own. It wasn’t rainwater, nor oil. It pulsed, alive, in rhythm with her heartbeat. Drawn to it like a magnet, Mia bent down. The streetlights flickered above her, casting an eerie glow on the strange substance.
Something inside her told her it was important.
Without thinking, her hand reached down, her fingers brushing the goo.
It was cold—unnaturally so. Cold in a way that made her skin crawl.
Then, it happened.
A wave of heat coursed through her, like the goo was alive, flowing through her veins. Her heart raced, her breath shallow. She tried to pull her hand away, but it stuck. The goo spread, consuming her arm, black as ink.
The world blurred. Everything went silent.
Her body froze as the goo twisted her inside out. It felt like her lungs were filled with something heavy, pressing down on her chest.
And then... the eyes.
Her reflection in a nearby puddle—her reflection, but not. Her skin was black as midnight, the darkness spreading. Her once brown eyes, deep and soft, were now voids—gleaming white, empty and unblinking.
Her transformation was complete.
Prompt: In the stillness of a snow-covered landscape, a lady in a red dress stands alone, her figure striking yet strangely subdued against the vast whiteness that stretches out in every direction. The vibrant hue of her dress seems almost out of place, a stark contrast to the soft, lifeless snow beneath her feet, yet at times, it almost blends into the scene, as if the fabric itself has been absorbed by the quiet cold around her. The red, rich and deep, catches the pale light of a setting sun, making it appear almost like a flame flickering in a sea of white—a symbol of life and warmth surrounded by an indifferent, frozen world. But the longer you look, the more the dress seems to fade into the snow, as if it’s dissolving into the endless expanse, as if she herself is vanishing into the cold, her vibrant energy slowly being swallowed by the emptiness. Her solitude is palpable, and with the snow falling gently around her, there’s a sense of something lost, a quiet surrender to the surrounding silence. The red dress, though brilliant and full of life, now speaks of something fragile, as if her presence—though vivid—is slowly being consumed by the vastness of the world, her identity blurring with the white of the snow, leaving behind only a memory of color amidst the endless winter.
Prompt: Beautiful scene with a butterfly stained glass sky with color that is so vibrant that it looks almost as good as the rest of the picture itself. The butterfly stained glass sky has a stained glass that has like an eye that watches you. There is a lady in a neon yellow dress with a crown with vibrant colors too. The lady has dark brown hair and tan skin. She is walking down to the horizon on a path with beautiful flowers and roses and butterfly’s a all around the beautiful garden and there are oak and willow trees and it looks like it is hanging from the sky. The grass is green and there is a beautiful lake with a waterfall. And it reflects off a hill making it seem magical
Prompt: Beautiful scene with a butterfly stained glass sky with color that is so vibrant that it looks almost as good as the rest of the picture itself. The butterfly stained glass sky has a stained glass that has like an eye that watches you. There is a lady in a neon yellow dress with a crown with vibrant colors too. The lady has dark brown hair and tan skin. She is walking down to the horizon on a path with beautiful flowers and roses and butterfly’s a all around the beautiful garden and there are oak and willow trees and it looks like it is hanging from the sky. The grass is green and there is a beautiful lake with a waterfall. And it reflects off a hill making it seem magical
Prompt: Beautiful lady with retro curls for hair and dewy makeup and a gold sparkly dress covered in blood and she is holding a knife on a bloody scene
Prompt: Beautiful scene with a butterfly stained glass sky with color that is so vibrant that it looks almost as good as the rest of the picture itself. The butterfly stained glass sky has a stained glass that has like an eye that watches you. There is a lady in a neon yellow dress with a crown with vibrant colors too. The lady has dark brown hair and tan skin. She is walking down to the horizon on a path with beautiful flowers and roses and butterfly’s a all around the beautiful garden and there are oak and willow trees and it looks like it is hanging from the sky. The grass is green and there is a beautiful lake with a waterfall. And it reflects off a hill making it seem magical
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.