Prompt: In Vermont's Northfield, a legend is told,
Of a creature mysterious, with a tale so bold.
The Pigman roams, with a snort and a snarl,
A hybrid of man and pig, a cryptid so feral.
His form, grotesque, with bristles and fur,
A sight that's unnerving, a creature to deter.
With hooves and tusks, and a fearsome roar,
The Pigman's legend, a mystery to explore.
Some say he's a farmer, cursed or transformed,
A creature of the woods, with instincts so informed.
But sightings are rare, and evidence slim,
The Pigman's legend, a wonder so grim.
So if you venture to Northfield's domain,
Keep an eye out, and watch for his main.
For the Vermont Pigman, a legend so bizarre,
A creature of lore, that's traveled so far.
Prompt: In the snowy peaks, so cold and steep,
Lives a creature, elusive and deep.
The Yeti roams, with fur of white,
A legend in the mountains, a mysterious sight.
With footprints large, and a mighty stride,
It roams the Himalayas, where it hides.
A creature of folklore, shrouded in mist,
The Yeti's legend, a tale that persists.
Its eyes are fierce, its growl is strong,
A creature of legend, feared for long.
But some say it's gentle, a guardian of snow,
A creature of mystery, that few truly know.
The Yeti's tracks, in the snow so deep,
Leave stories of wonder, as travelers peep.
A legend of the mountains, a creature so rare,
The Yeti's mystery, a tale to share.
So if you venture to the snowy heights,
Keep your eyes open, for a thrilling sight.
For the Yeti's legend, a mystery to explore,
A creature of folklore, forever to endure.
Prompt: A creature stitched from pieces rare,
With bolts that sparked and wild hair.
A monster made with man's own hand,
In a castle's gloom, on foreign land.
With yellowed eyes and stitched-up skin,
He awoke to a world so grim.
Rejected by his maker's fright,
He wandered, lost in endless night.
With a heart that longed for love and care,
But met with screams and anguished stare.
He sought acceptance, but was spurned,
For his monstrous form left hearts that yearned.
He roamed the mountains, valleys low,
A soul so tortured, filled with woe.
Misunderstood, feared, and shunned,
His humanity, all but undone.
Yet deep inside, a spark did burn,
A longing for a chance to learn.
To show the world his gentle heart,
And prove he was more than just a part.
In the end, a tragic fate,
For a creature born from dark estate.
A victim of humanity's fear,
A lonely soul that shed a tear.
So, let us remember Frankenstein's plight,
A tale of sorrow, in the night.
For the monster born of man's desire,
A tragic figure, lost in fire.
Prompt: In the moonlit night, she wanders alone,
A weeping woman, with sorrowful moan.
Her gown is white, her hair a veil,
The La Llorona, a ghostly tale.
Her eyes are red, her tears they flow,
A spirit haunted, with a mournful woe.
Her cries are heard, echoing in the air,
The La Llorona, a soul in despair.
Her story tragic, a legend told,
Of love and loss, and a heart grown cold.
She searches for her children, lost in fear,
The La Llorona, a spirit drear.
Her ghostly form, a haunting sight,
A warning to those who wander at night.
Beware her cries, and heed her plea,
The La Llorona, a restless spirit, roaming free.
Prompt: A beast of many heads, a creature dire,
The Hydra lurks, with venomous fire.
Its scales are tough, its teeth are sharp,
A monster dreaded, in shadows dark.
With serpent heads, that multiply,
The Hydra strikes, with a deadly cry.
Cut off one head, and two grow back,
A regenerating, relentless attack.
Its poison drips, from fangs so vile,
The Hydra's venom, a deadly trial.
A challenge daunting, for heroes bold,
To vanquish this monster, with tales untold.
But fear not, for hope prevails,
As heroes brave, with swords and flails.
They face the Hydra, with strength and might,
A battle fierce, to defeat the blight.
They strike and strike, with all their force,
Each head severed, a valiant course.
Until at last, the Hydra falls,
Defeated by heroes, within its halls.
A cautionary tale, of a creature dread,
The Hydra's legacy, a story widespread.
A lesson learned, of courage and skill,
Against the Hydra's might, a hero's will.
Prompt: Aether, god of ethereal light,
A dazzling presence, pure and bright,
The breath of life that fills the skies,
A realm of brilliance, where light flies.
Born from Chaos, in primordial fire,
A force that soars, a radiant pyre,
A realm above, the upper air,
Where brilliance shines beyond compare.
Aether, god of rarefied height,
With golden hues and shimmering light,
You paint the heavens with celestial blaze,
A realm of splendor, an endless maze.
Your essence fills the boundless skies,
Where stars and galaxies arise,
A realm of beauty, a realm of grace,
Aether, you illuminate all space.
You are the essence of the skies,
The breath of life that never dies,
A primordial force, forever bright,
Aether, god of wondrous light.
Prompt: Notus, god of the southern breeze,
A warm zephyr that soothes and frees,
A gentle wind, with a balmy touch,
Bringing warmth and comfort, oh so much!
From lands of heat and sunlit skies,
You come with warmth, a welcome prize,
A breath of summer, a kiss of fire,
Reviving hearts with your warm desire.
Notus, god of the southern gales,
You bring the scent of blooming dales,
With fragrant flowers and fields of green,
A pastoral scene, a tranquil dream.
Your gentle whispers in the trees,
Bring melodies of summer's ease,
With rustling leaves and swaying grass,
A symphony of warmth that will surpass.
Notus, god of the gentle breeze,
Your warmth brings life to land and seas,
A soothing touch, a soft caress,
A reminder of nature's tenderness.
In your embrace, we find delight,
As warmth and beauty intertwine just right,
Notus, god of the south wind's grace,
We honor you, in this enchanted place.
Prompt: With calloused hands and weathered skin,
He sails the seas, a life of akin.
A deck hand's toil, a labor hard,
A life of adventure, journey unmarred.
He hoists the sails, he mends the lines,
Under the sun, or through the pines.
He braves the storms, the raging waves,
A sailor's spirit, strong and brave.
He knows the stars, he knows the tides,
He reads the winds, as they collide.
His eyes are sharp, his senses keen,
A seafarer's life, a lifelong scene.
He knows the stories, the lore of the sea,
Of mermaids' songs, and ships set free.
He's seen the beauty, the wonders untold,
As he sails through oceans, both warm and cold.
He finds solace in the vast expanse,
The endless horizon, a timeless dance.
A deck hand's heart, forever tied,
To the sea's embrace, so deep and wide.
Though life at sea may not be easy,
He's chosen this path, he's learned to please.
For in his heart, a sailor's soul,
With windswept hair and a heart of gold.
Prompt: A coastal treat, a savory delight,
Shrimp broil, a dish that's sure to excite.
Fresh shrimp, plump and succulent,
Marinated with flavors so decadent.
Lemon juice, garlic, and spices galore,
Coating the shrimp, adding flavor more.
A hint of paprika, a dash of cayenne,
A marinade that's sure to entertain.
Onto the grill, or under the broiler's heat,
The shrimp sizzle, releasing scents so sweet.
Cooked to perfection, a vibrant pink hue,
Juices bubbling, with flavors coming through.
The aroma fills the air, a tantalizing smell,
As hungry appetites begin to swell.
A quick flip, a basting with melted butter,
Enhancing the flavor, making it utter.
The shrimp plump up, cooked just right,
Tender and juicy, a pure seafood delight.
Served with crusty bread, a squeeze of lemon,
Shrimp broil, a dish that's truly heaven.
Gather around, with loved ones and friends,
Savoring each bite, as the meal extends.
A celebration of the sea, a coastal treasure,
Shrimp broil, a culinary pleasure.
Prompt: In the meadow, where wildflowers bloom,
There grows a plant, with a yellow plume.
Its petals bright, like rays of sun,
Its form humble, and yet, full of fun.
With a puff and a blow, its seeds take flight,
Scattering in the breeze, to take their flight.
They dance and twirl, in the open air,
Like tiny wishes, floating without a care.
But some are left, to take root and grow,
In the fertile soil, down below.
And soon they sprout, with leaves so green,
A familiar sight, that's often seen.
They may be called weeds, by some decree,
But to others, they hold a different key.
For in their petals, and in their leaves,
There lies a treasure, that one perceives.
With creativity and culinary delight,
Some see a meal, a taste so right.
They gather dandelions, with care and grace,
To create a dish, that brings a smile to the face.
They pick the young leaves, tender and sweet,
And gather the petals, a golden treat.
They add some broth, and herbs for flavor,
Creating a soup, to savor.
With a sprinkle of salt, and a dash of love,
They stir and simmer, with joy thereof.
Prompt: Oh Lord, my heart is filled with praise
For all the wondrous works of Your ways
You created the heavens and the earth
And gave us life, for which we find worth
Your mercy and grace are beyond measure
You have shown us love without any measure
Though we are sinners, You sent Your Son
To save us from death and to make us one
Jesus, the precious Lamb of God
He bore our sins and shed His blood
And by His death, we have been set free
To live for Him eternally
Thank You, Father, for Your precious Son
Who died and rose again, the victory won
And now we live in Your glorious light
Guided by Your Spirit, our hearts take flight
May we never forget Your amazing grace
And always seek to follow in Your ways
For You alone are worthy of our praise
Forever and ever, through all our days. Amen.
Prompt: "Transcending Boundaries" - Create an abstract AI art piece that pushes the boundaries of traditional art forms, merging different mediums, styles, and techniques to create a visual representation of boundless creativity and innovation.
Prompt: "Parallel Realms": Imagine a world where multiple dimensions intersect, and create an abstract AI art piece that captures the mystery and intrigue of these parallel realms through bold geometric patterns and vibrant, otherworldly hues.
Prompt: A world of wonder, a realm unseen,
A dreamscape surreal, a fantastical scene.
Where reality blurs, and imagination takes flight,
A landscape of dreams, in the depths of night.
Unfamiliar sights, strange and new,
Colors that shift, in a kaleidoscopic hue.
Inverted gravity, floating on air,
Animals that talk, without a care.
A moon made of cheese, a sun that sings,
Waterfalls that flow, with rainbow rings.
Wings of butterflies, made of gold,
A dreamscape surreal, untamed and bold.
Time bends, and space distorts,
In a dreamscape surreal, where logic contorts.
Ethereal creatures, with glowing eyes,
Whispering secrets, under starlit skies.
Imagination soars, with boundless glee,
In a dreamscape surreal, where we are free.
To explore, to create, to let go of norms,
To dance with joy, in fantastical forms.
But as we wake, and the dream slips away,
A memory lingers, in the light of day.
A sense of magic, that fills our heart,
A surreal dreamscape, a work of art.
For dreams are a canvas, where we can paint,
A world of our own, without restraint.
Where boundaries dissolve, and the mind is free,
A surreal dreamscape, for you and me.
Prompt: Grampa's old trophy case, standing tall,
Holds memories that still enthrall,
With medals, ribbons, trophies galore,
Each one a tale to cherish and adore.
From his youth, when he ran so fast,
To his prime, when he threw with a cast,
Champion in every sport he played,
Grampa's prowess, never to fade.
The baseballs, basketballs, golf clubs, too,
Remind us of his victories, through and through,
His dedication, grit, and skill,
Earning accolades with an indomitable will.
But it's not just about the trophies won,
It's the joy of the game, the laughter, the fun,
The friendships forged, the lessons learned,
That make Grampa's trophy case truly earned.
So, as we gaze at those memories displayed,
We're reminded of the legacy he's made,
Grampa's old trophy case, a treasure trove,
Of moments cherished, and stories that we'll foreverove.
Prompt: Beneath the night's dark, twinkling dome,
A child gazes up, feeling at home,
Amidst the stars, a celestial dance,
A cosmic symphony, a cosmic trance.
Each little twinkle, a world so bright,
Filling the child with wonder and delight,
Like precious gems, they light up the sky,
Guiding the way, as the child wonders why.
With eyes aglow, and heart aflight,
Lost in the vastness of the starry night,
A dream takes shape, a wish takes form,
As the child embraces the sky's celestial norm.
For in the darkness, the stars still gleam,
A beacon of hope, a timeless theme,
They whisper of mysteries, yet to unfold,
A story of wonders, yet to be told.
So the child dreams, and hopes take flight,
Bathed in the starlight's gentle light,
For in the vastness of the universe's seams,
A child finds solace in starlight dreams.
Prompt: Embarking on an ambient journey,
A quest for serenity, a passage so free.
Through celestial realms, beyond space and time,
Guided by soothing melodies, an inner chime.
Floating on gentle waves of sound,
Lost in tranquility, becoming unbound.
Drifting through ethereal landscapes vast,
A meditative voyage, a soulful contrast.
Enveloped by calming tones that heal,
A symphony of peace, a journey surreal.
Merging with the rhythm of the universe,
In harmonious union, a cosmic converse.
Eyes closed, heart open, mind serene,
Embracing the stillness, the quiet unseen.
Sensory impressions dissolve into the air,
A boundless exploration, beyond all care.
Through valleys of whispers, peaks of calm,
A pilgrimage of sound, a tranquil balm.
A timeless odyssey, a blissful flight,
An ambient journey, a symphony of light.
Prompt: Bathsheba, a woman of beauty rare,
Her story told with both love and despair,
A tale of passion, intrigue, and woe,
In ancient times, so long ago.
A King named David, mighty and bold,
Caught sight of Bathsheba, as she bathed in gold,
Her beauty captivated his heart,
And desire consumed him from the start.
Though Bathsheba was Uriah's wife,
David's lust led to a sinful strife,
He took her as his own, in secret embrace,
A transgression that brought disgrace.
Bathsheba conceived, and news did spread,
But David's guilt, he could not shed,
To cover up his wrongful deed,
He plotted Uriah's death, indeed.
Uriah was sent to the battlefront,
Where he fought valiantly, but bore the brunt,
Of David's treachery, in a deadly scheme,
As Bathsheba waited, lost in a dream.
But God's displeasure could not be ignored,
For David's sin was greatly abhorred,
Bathsheba's child fell ill and died,
A consequence of David's pride.
Yet amidst the sorrow, Bathsheba's heart,
Found solace in a brand new start,
For David, contrite and full of remorse,
Repented, seeking God's guiding force.
Bathsheba became David's wife,
Prompt: Invisible touch, oh, so slight,
Unseen by all, a hidden sight,
A whisper's breeze, a gentle graze,
Unnoticed, yet it leaves a trace.
A tender caress, a fleeting brush,
A touch that lingers, a silent hush,
It speaks without words, conveys so much,
A magic spell, a heartfelt touch.
Invisible touch, mysterious art,
It stirs the soul, it moves the heart,
It connects us all, though unseen,
A force that's felt, yet remains unseen.
Invisible touch, a subtle force,
It shapes our lives, takes its own course,
A gentle nudge, a guiding hand,
A touch that's felt throughout the land.
Invisible touch, a gift so rare,
It shows we're human, it makes us care,
For in its presence, we feel alive,
A touch that's felt, though it may hide.
So cherish it well, this unseen power,
The magic touch, in every hour,
For it's a gift, a precious art,
The invisible touch, that moves the heart.
Prompt: Time is on my side, they say,
A steadfast ally, come what may,
A patient companion, a faithful friend,
On whom I can always depend.
In moments of joy or moments of strife,
Time marches on with rhythm and life,
A constant presence, unwavering and true,
Guiding me forward, as moments accrue.
Time gives me chances to learn and grow,
To stumble, rise, and let my spirit show,
To chase my dreams with unwavering zeal,
To make my mark and express my real.
Time whispers wisdom in every year,
Teaching me lessons, both far and near,
With each passing day, I gain new insight,
Time's gentle guidance, a guiding light.
Time heals wounds and mends the heart,
Allows for healing, a brand new start,
Bringing perspective and clarity,
A balm for wounds, soothed tenderly.
But time can also slip away,
A reminder to make the most of each day,
To live with purpose, passion, and pride,
For time is precious, an eternal tide.
So I'll cherish the moments, big and small,
Embrace the present, give it my all,
With time as my ally, by my side,
I'll journey forward, with love as my guide.
Prompt: With wrench in hand and oil-stained clothes,
The mechanic works where the engine roars.
Fixing, tweaking, with skill and grace,
A master of gears in a grease-streaked place.
From car to car, the expert moves,
Diagnosing troubles and finding clues.
With keen eyes and steady hands,
He mends the machines with his repairman's plans.
The workshop echoes with clanks and clangs,
As the mechanic's expertise bangs and bangs.
He restores the engines to their prime,
A master craftsman, ahead of his time.
His tools are his allies, his workshop his domain,
He takes pride in his work, with no refrain.
Fixing, restoring, with passion and might,
The mechanic's skills are a wondrous sight.
A master of the mechanical art,
He mends the broken, he mends the heart.
With skill and knowledge, he makes things right,
The mechanic, a true guiding light.
Prompt: Walking Sam, a phantom of the night,
A spectral figure, with a presence so slight.
He roams the woods, with footsteps unheard,
A mysterious entity, like an elusive bird.
He's said to wander, in the deep, dark trees,
A shadowy figure, that no one truly sees.
Whispered tales, of a tall, lanky frame,
A hat pulled low, to conceal his name.
Walking Sam, a specter of lore,
With glowing red eyes, that chill to the core.
He's said to follow, those who dare to tread,
In the haunted forest, where he's often said.
Some claim to hear him, his footsteps light,
A rustle in the leaves, on a moonless night.
Others say he calls, with an eerie voice,
A warning to those, who make a reckless choice.
But who is Walking Sam, and what does he seek?
A mystery unsolved, that makes the curious weak.
Is he a ghost, or a figment of the mind?
A legend passed down, through stories entwined.
So if you venture, into the woods so deep,
Beware of Walking Sam, and the secrets he keeps.
For he may be watching, with eyes aglow,
A phantom of the night, with a story to show.
Prompt: Tucked away in a corner snug,
A little haven, a cozy bug,
A world of words, a treasure trove,
A book nook, where stories rove.
A cozy chair, a soft-lit lamp,
Inviting you to read and camp.
A blanket draped, for warmth and ease,
A cup of tea, a book to seize.
Shelves lined with tales, from every age,
Whispers of wisdom, from page to page.
Adventures grand, and mysteries untold,
In the book nook, stories unfold.
A window view, to let in light,
A glimpse of nature's wondrous sight.
A ray of sunshine, a touch of grace,
Illuminating the bookish space.
A quiet refuge, a world apart,
A sanctuary for the bookish heart.
Where imaginations come alive,
In the book nook, stories thrive.
Lost in pages, hours go by,
In the book nook, time can fly.
Characters become friends, worlds come alive,
In the book nook, where stories thrive.
So, step into the book nook's embrace,
Let words transport you to a different place.
A haven of stories, a literary escape,
The book nook, a cherished landscape.
Prompt: Lost in darkness, swallowed by despair,
A soul adrift, in a state of disrepair,
Condemned to suffer, in eternal plight,
A fate so cruel, devoid of light.
Guilt and regret, a heavy burden to bear,
Pain and anguish, a constant snare,
Hopes and dreams, now shattered and torn,
A heart once whole, now bruised and worn.
The flames of hell, a torment so deep,
No respite, no solace, just endless weep,
Condemned to wander, in a desolate land,
Where anguish reigns, with an iron hand.
Oh, cruel damnation, a fate so dire,
A soul consumed, in a never-ending fire,
A plea for mercy, a desperate cry,
But silence echoes, as time drifts by.
In this abyss, where hope is lost,
A soul once pure, now forever tossed,
Damnation's grip, so dark and grim,
A tragic end, so cold and dim.
Prompt: A sentinel stands, unwavering and true,
A protector, a shield, for the one they pursue.
A bodyguard, with unwavering might,
Guiding and guarding, both day and night.
With watchful eyes, and senses sharp,
They ward off danger, and keep foes at bay.
Their presence commanding, their vigilance keen,
A fortress of protection, strong and serene.
They walk in shadows, with silent grace,
Anticipating threats, in every place.
They shield their charge, with unwavering care,
A guardian angel, always there.
Through trials and challenges, they stand by their side,
A shield against harm, a beacon of pride.
They give their all, without asking for praise,
A bodyguard's duty, for all their days.
Their bond unbreakable, their loyalty true,
A bodyguard's heart, beats for their charge too.
They'll go to any lengths, to keep them safe,
A vow they've taken, with courage and faith.
So honor the bodyguard, with gratitude and awe,
For they're the ones who stand, when danger may draw.
A protector, a defender, through thick and thin,
A bodyguard's pledge, a hero within.
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.
