Prompt: In the window of the toy store, stood a doll so bright,
With hair that gleamed like golden light,
Her eyes so blue, her dress so fine,
A treasure for a child to call her own, oh, so divine!
With porcelain skin and rosy cheeks,
Her beauty captured hearts with peaks,
Her tiny hands and delicate pose,
Mesmerized everyone, from kids to those who were old foes.
Children passed by, eyes filled with awe,
Yearning for the doll to be theirs, they'd draw,
But she stayed put, behind the glass,
Longing for a loving touch, a child's grasp.
Days turned into weeks, and weeks to months,
The doll remained untouched by anyone's hunch,
Until one day, a little girl with a smile so bright,
Stepped into the store, her heart taking flight.
She gazed at the doll with pure delight,
Her eyes sparkling with pure insight,
Her tiny hands pressed against the glass,
Longing to hold the doll, oh, what a perfect lass!
The storekeeper noticed the girl's pure heart,
And brought the doll to life with a start,
Prompt: Oh, the life of a crash dummy, so surreal,
Thrown into collisions with metal and steel,
Bouncing and crashing, time after time,
In the name of safety, a sacrificial climb.
A fearless hero in the crash test lab,
With no voice or will, just a silent stab,
Subjected to impacts, high-speed crashes,
Measuring the force of life's harsh lashes.
With a stoic face and a vacant stare,
They endure the blows, but do they dare,
To dream of freedom beyond their role,
To break away from their crash test toll?
They're poked and prodded, twisted and bent,
Their body bruised, but their spirit unbent,
For they play a vital, selfless part,
In saving lives, with a brave heart.
They take the hits, so we can be safe,
A symbol of sacrifice, so brave,
Their purpose fulfilled, yet they remain,
A crash dummy's lament, an unsung refrain.
So, here's to the crash dummy, our unsung friend,
For taking the hits, time and again,
In the pursuit of safety, they play their role,
A silent hero, with a crash test soul.
Prompt: Along the southern Texas border, wide and grand,
A sun-drenched land with a story so grand,
Where cultures meet in a melting pot,
A place where dreams are often sought.
With Spanish whispers and cowboy boots,
Mariachi melodies and spicy fruits,
The Rio Grande flows with its ancient might,
A lifeline for both day and night.
Cacti standing tall in the scorching heat,
Mesquite trees providing welcome retreat,
Vibrant colors of red, orange, and gold,
A landscape that never gets old.
The borderlands thrive with life so diverse,
From bustling cities to nature's curse,
Where ranchers ride across the plains,
And migrants seek hope amid their pains.
Yet challenges persist, conflicts arise,
As people debate with passionate cries,
But in this region, there's common ground,
Where hearts can heal and peace be found.
So let us celebrate this borderland,
With open hearts, let's understand,
That differences can bring us close,
As we coexist, our humanity shows.
Along the southern Texas border, a tapestry of grace,
A unique place where cultures interlace,
Where stories unfold and bridges are built,
A melting pot where compassion is felt.
Prompt: In the yard, there stands a humble abode,
A haven for the hens, a cozy abode.
A chicken coop, so sturdy and stout,
Where feathered friends are safe from any doubt.
With walls of wood, and roof so high,
The chickens roost and lay eggs nearby.
A nesting box with straw so sweet,
Where eggs are laid, a daily feat.
A door that swings, to let them out,
To peck and scratch, and roam about.
But when the sun goes down each night,
They return to their coop, a familiar sight.
Protected from the wind and rain,
The chicken coop is their domain.
A sanctuary, warm and snug,
With perches for resting, a cozy hug.
The clucking and flapping, a cheerful sound,
As hens lay eggs, all nestled and round.
The chicken coop, a home so dear,
Where feathered friends feel safe and clear.
So here's to the chicken coop, a haven so grand,
Where hens lay eggs, as nature planned.
A simple structure, yet a treasure so fine,
A shelter for the chickens, rain or shine.
Prompt: Oh, the old Model T, a classic sight to see,
With its brass and steel, so simple and free.
A relic of the past, a treasure of the road,
A testament to ingenuity, a story yet untold.
Its engine roared with a rhythmic hum,
As it chugged along, its driver at the helm.
With wooden spokes and rubber tires,
It traveled miles and miles, igniting fires.
Through countryside and city streets it drove,
A symbol of progress, a machine to prove
That with innovation and a daring dream,
One could conquer new frontiers, or so it seemed.
From dusty roads to muddy tracks,
The Model T traversed, never looking back.
Its legacy lives on, in history's lore,
A timeless icon, forever to endure.
So here's to the old Model T,
A marvel of its time, for all to see.
A reminder of innovation's might,
A symbol of the past, shining bright.
Prompt: In a meadow glade, 'midst flowers bright,
Stands a hive of bees, a wondrous sight,
A bustling home, a buzzing throng,
A symphony of life, a nature's song.
Worker bees with wings so fleet,
Collecting nectar, so sweet and neat,
Building combs of hexagonal cells,
Creating honey, nature's sweetest spells.
The queen, majestic, regal, grand,
With subjects loyal at her command,
Laying eggs, the next generation,
Ensuring the hive's vibrant continuation.
Guard bees vigilant and bold,
Protecting their hive from invaders, untold,
With stingers ready, they stand their ground,
Defending their home, a fortress profound.
The drone bees, few in number, yet vital,
Seeking queens in a dance so primal,
Their mission clear, to mate and sire,
A bee's purpose, a nature's desire.
Oh, the bee hive, a marvel to behold,
A bustling city, a world untold,
A hive of industry, a treasure trove,
Nature's masterpiece, a labor of love.
Prompt: An old ball cap, tattered and worn,
A relic of days long since borne,
A treasure trove of stories told,
Of youthful adventures, bold and bold.
Its brim once crisp, now curved with age,
Its logo faded, its colors beige,
But oh, the memories it holds dear,
Of sun-soaked days and laughter near.
From baseball games to fishing trips,
It's been my trusted, faithful grip,
Shielding my eyes from blazing sun,
Or raindrops falling one by one.
Through highs and lows, it's been my guide,
A constant comfort by my side,
With every stain and every fray,
It tells a tale in its own way.
Though time has left its marks so clear,
My old ball cap I still hold dear,
For it's a symbol of my past,
A reminder that memories can forever last.
So I'll keep it close, with love and care,
A cherished relic I proudly wear,
For in its fabric, worn and thin,
Lies a story that will never dim.
Prompt: Big Sky Country, wide and grand,
Where endless plains meet distant land.
A canvas painted with hues so bright,
A breathtaking, awe-inspiring sight.
The sky stretches out in boundless blue,
With clouds that dance and change their hue.
The sun rises and sets in stunning array,
Casting golden rays throughout the day.
The mountains rise majestic and tall,
Standing proud, commanding awe in all.
Their peaks touched by snow, pure and white,
A breathtaking, awe-inspiring sight.
The rivers flow, a ribbon of life,
Bringing nourishment to lands so rife.
Wildlife roams in untamed grace,
Thriving in this untouched space.
Big Sky Country, a treasure untold,
A vast expanse of stories untold.
Where nature reigns in all her glory,
A timeless tale of Earth's own story.
So let us cherish this land so free,
With skies that stretch to eternity.
Big Sky Country, a gift so rare,
A symphony of nature's grandeur to share.
Prompt: A man in overalls, with sleeves rolled up,
His hands calloused, a sturdy work cup,
He toils in the fields from dawn till dusk,
With sweat on his brow, he'll never fuss.
His overalls, a uniform worn with pride,
A symbol of labor, a life simplified,
With tools in hand, he plows the soil,
Tilling the earth, with unwavering toil.
In rain or shine, he works with might,
From morning's first light, till stars shine bright,
His overalls, a trusted friend,
A partner in labor, till the very end.
With dirt on his boots and hay in his hair,
He's a man of the land, beyond compare,
In overalls, he finds his solace true,
A working man, so strong and true.
So let's raise a cheer, for the man so grand,
In his overalls, he'll always stand,
A testament to hard work and grit,
A man in overalls, a working man's fit.
Prompt: When the snow falls and the winds do blow,
And the frost bites, oh, it's cold, you know,
There's a drink that warms you from within,
A hot tottie, a comforting sin.
With whiskey's warmth and lemon's zest,
A touch of honey, it's truly the best,
A sprinkle of cinnamon, a hint of clove,
A sip so cozy, it warms with love.
In a mug, it steams, a golden brew,
A winter elixir, just for you,
A treat to savor, as you delight,
In the fire's glow on a chilly night.
So raise your glass, and take a sip,
Let the flavors dance on your lip,
A hot tottie's embrace, so sweet and bright,
A winter's sip, a sheer delight.
Prompt: On the table, colors bright,
A still life scene in golden light,
With fruits and flowers, a symphony,
A moment captured, frozen, free.
An apple red, a pear so green,
A bowl of grapes, a tangerine,
Their forms arranged in perfect grace,
An artist's touch, a visual embrace.
A vase of flowers standing tall,
Crimson roses, petals sprawl,
Their scent so sweet, their hues so bold,
Nature's beauty, a tale untold.
In this still life, time stands still,
A moment's beauty, an artist's skill,
A scene so rich, a story told,
A treasure cherished, a sight to behold.
Prompt: Dapper Dan, so debonair,
With a suit and tie, beyond compare,
His style, unmatched, from head to toe,
A true fashion icon, as many know.
A dashing hat atop his head,
A pocket square of silk, blood red,
His shoes shined bright, oh, what a sight,
Dapper Dan, a gentleman of the night.
His confidence radiates, so refined,
His charm and wit, truly divine,
A smile that dazzles, a twinkle in his eye,
As he strolls down the street, heads turn with a sigh.
From his tailored suit to his polished cane,
Dapper Dan's fashion is never in vain,
He's a sartorial king, a dandy so grand,
A true style maven, in a league that's grand.
So here's to Dapper Dan, with his flair and grace,
A dashing figure, a style ace,
He's a sartorial delight, a fashion fan,
Forever in vogue, the one and only Dapper Dan.
Prompt: In Seattle town, where skies are gray,
Raindrops dance in a misty play,
They patter on rooftops, streets, and trees,
A rhythm that brings the city to ease.
A drizzle here, a downpour there,
Seattle's rain, it's everywhere,
A constant companion, a familiar friend,
Bringing freshness to each bend.
Umbrellas blooming like flowers in spring,
Rain boots and jackets, a staple thing,
Yet people smile as they walk along,
Embracing the rain's soothing song.
It paints the city in shades of green,
Glistening streets with a glossy sheen,
Reflecting lights in a shimmering glow,
Seattle's rain, a magical show.
It keeps the air pure, the gardens lush,
A treasure in the city's hush,
Seattle's rain, a charm so true,
A beauty that only a few can construe.
So let it rain in Seattle town,
For in its drops, a jewel is found,
A rhythm, a melody, a gentle refrain,
Seattle's rain, its unique domain.
Prompt: Beneath the moon's bewitching light,
A creature stirs, a fearsome sight,
A beast with fur, eyes glowing bright,
A lycanthrope, a creature of the night.
By day, a mortal, like any other,
But when the full moon rises, a change to uncover,
Bones crack, and muscles grow,
A transformation, an eerie show.
With fur as black as the midnight sky,
And eyes that gleam with a feral cry,
A hunger rising, a primal urge,
To hunt, to prowl, a beastly surge.
Through the woods, with stealth and speed,
A warewolf runs, with fangs to feed,
A creature cursed, both man and beast,
A life of shadows, a violent feast.
But in the morning, as the moonlight fades,
The warewolf retreats to the forest glades,
A human form, with no recollection,
Of the moonlit curse, and its savage reflection.
A tale of terror, a tragic fate,
A warewolf's life, a haunting state,
Forever torn between two worlds,
A creature cursed, as the moon unfurls.
Prompt: In dreary nights, by candlelight,
Edgar wrote with all his might,
Ghoulish words that gave a fright,
A master of the macabre, right?
Ravens perched with beady eyes,
Echoing his mournful cries,
As he delved into the skies,
Of madness, where the soul dies.
From "The Raven" to "The Fall of the House of Usher",
Poe's tales made hearts shudder and usher,
Readers into realms so dark,
Where fear and horror leave their mark.
With Edgar's pen, a magic spell,
He weaved stories, oh so well,
Of ghosts, and death, and eerie gloom,
Awe-inspiring, like a haunted tomb.
Forevermore, his words endure,
A legacy of eerie allure,
Edgar Allan Poe, the master of dread,
Whose tales of terror will never be dead.
Prompt: In the moon's pale glow, a cemetery lies,
Where tombstones rise towards the skies,
A solemn place, shrouded in mist,
Whispers of the past, forever kissed.
With weathered stones and names long gone,
Each grave tells a tale, a story drawn,
Of lives once lived, now laid to rest,
A hallowed ground, where time's caressed.
Beneath the boughs of ancient trees,
Lies the history of memories,
Of souls departed, forever sleeping,
In this sepulcher, silently keeping.
A peaceful haven, for the dearly departed,
Where time stands still, and sorrows parted,
As nature weaves its quiet spell,
In this old cemetery, where stories dwell.
The moonlight casts a spectral glow,
On crosses, angels, in graceful row,
A haunting beauty, a serene gloom,
In this old cemetery, where mysteries loom.
Prompt: A flickering flame, a warm embrace,
A scented candle, filling the space,
With fragrant notes that fill the air,
A cozy glow that says "I care."
Its wick aglow with dancing light,
A beacon in the dark of night,
A comforting presence, always near,
Dispelling shadows, calming fear.
With scents of lavender or vanilla sweet,
Or the warm embrace of cinnamon's heat,
Aromas that evoke memories old,
Or create new moments to behold.
A flickering flame, a gentle glow,
A scented candle's inviting show,
A symphony of senses, sight and smell,
A soothing spell that casts its spell.
So let us cherish this humble light,
A symbol of warmth on a chilly night,
A simple pleasure, a source of grace,
The scented candle, a cherished embrace.
Prompt: A blaze of color on the canvas bright,
Vincent's strokes, a symphony of light,
With swirling stars and sunflowers bold,
A story of a tortured soul, untold.
A master of the brush, a genius true,
A troubled mind, a heart askew,
His art, a mirror of his inner pain,
A world of beauty born from his strain.
His mind ablaze with visions rare,
He painted with fervor, unaware,
That time would reveal his timeless art,
A legacy of passion from a wounded heart.
Through swirling skies and cypress trees,
Vincent's art spoke with an inner ease,
A soul aflame with creativity,
An immortal artist for eternity.
So let us cherish his masterpieces bright,
A testament to his soul's brave fight,
For Vincent Van Gogh, a genius true,
His art lives on, forever anew.
Prompt: In the art classroom, a world of delight,
Where colors danced and creativity took flight,
With brushes, pencils, and palettes arrayed,
An artist's haven where masterpieces were made.
A blank canvas, a world of possibility,
An artist's vision, a creative reality,
With strokes of passion, the paint would flow,
Telling stories and emotions, high and low.
Guided by the teacher's patient hand,
Students explored, a curious band,
Learning techniques, unleashing their flair,
In that art classroom, a space so rare.
From still lifes to landscapes, abstract and bold,
Each canvas had a story to be told,
With colors vibrant, or soft and serene,
A world of imagination, a visual scene.
The classroom hummed with artistic vibes,
As students painted, with joy in their eyes,
Sharing ideas, expressing their voice,
In that art classroom, a place to rejoice.
And as the years went by, their skills did grow,
Their creativity blossomed, a vibrant show,
The art classroom had nurtured their art,
A treasure trove, a place close to the heart.
Prompt: A swimmer bold, with strokes so sleek,
In water's realm, he's truly unique,
A champion of the pool, so fleet,
With every lap, a victory sweet.
He trains with discipline and might,
From dawn till dusk, day and night,
Pushing limits, breaking through,
A passion burning, ever true.
In the water's embrace, he finds his flow,
Effortless glides, a graceful show,
A symphony of arms and legs,
A rhythmic dance, as he pegs.
With teammates by his side, a team,
They strive for glory, chase the dream,
In meets and races, they compete,
With strength, endurance, and heart's beat.
They cheer and cheer, with voices raised,
As he breaks records, unfazed,
A beacon of inspiration bright,
A symbol of unwavering fight.
So here's to you, college swimmer,
A hero in the water's glimmer,
With skill and heart that's hard to tame,
You leave a legacy, a lasting flame.
Prompt: My pet donkey, with ears so long,
A gentle soul, so sweet and strong,
With coat of gray, and eyes so kind,
A loyal friend, one of a kind.
You carry me upon your back,
Through fields and woods, along the track,
With patient steps, you plod along,
And fill my heart with joyous song.
Your bray, a sound of rustic charm,
Echoes through the valley, free from harm,
A melody of humble grace,
That puts a smile upon my face.
In your eyes, I see such trust,
A bond between us, forged with rust,
For you're not just a beast of burden,
But a friend, with love so certain.
Your presence brings me peace and cheer,
A faithful companion, year by year,
I'm grateful for your steady pace,
And the warmth of your embrace.
So here's to you, my dear donkey,
A treasure in my life, so wonky,
With hooves that dance and spirit bright,
You bring me joy from morn till night.
Prompt: A Mormon, true and strong in faith,
With Scriptures held in reverent embrace,
A life of service, love and grace,
Guided by God's light, a steady pace.
They follow Christ, their Savior dear,
With hearts so full of love and cheer,
They strive to live a life sincere,
With charity that's ever clear.
Their faith unwavering, firm and bold,
In trials faced, they're never told,
To walk the path, come heat or cold,
With God's own hand, their lives are mould.
Their families held in highest worth,
With love that binds, from birth to earth,
A bond that's sealed, a sacred girth,
In heaven's plan, of infinite worth.
Their community, a loving kin,
With open hearts, they welcome in,
The stranger, friend, and next of kin,
With kindness, they let God's light within.
So let us praise the Mormon's creed,
A faith that's anchored, indeed,
In Christ's pure love, a blessed seed,
That bears good fruit, in word and deed.
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.
