Prompt: The city rose on low hills, like steps climbing to a center. Another wall encircled that center, shining pure white and running over the hills. Inside that were even more towers and domes, white and gold and purple, their elevation atop the hills making them seem to look down on the rest of Caemlyn. Rand thought that must be the Inner City of which Bunt had spoken.
The Caemlyn Road itself changed as soon as it was inside the city, becoming a wide boulevard, split down the middle by broad strips of grass and trees. The grass was brown and the tree branches bare, but people hurried by as if they saw nothing unusual, laughing, talking, arguing, doing all the things that people do. Just as if they had no idea that there had been no spring yet this year and might be none. They did not see, Rand realized, could not or would not. Their eyes slid away from leafless branches, and they walked across the dead and dying grass without once looking down. What they did not see, they could ignore; what they did not see was not really there.
Prompt: The city rose on low hills, like steps climbing to a center. Another wall encircled that center, shining pure white and running over the hills. Inside that were even more towers and domes, white and gold and purple, their elevation atop the hills making them seem to look down on the rest of Caemlyn. Rand thought that must be the Inner City of which Bunt had spoken.
The Caemlyn Road itself changed as soon as it was inside the city, becoming a wide boulevard, split down the middle by broad strips of grass and trees. The grass was brown and the tree branches bare, but people hurried by as if they saw nothing unusual, laughing, talking, arguing, doing all the things that people do. Just as if they had no idea that there had been no spring yet this year and might be none. They did not see, Rand realized, could not or would not. Their eyes slid away from leafless branches, and they walked across the dead and dying grass without once looking down. What they did not see, they could ignore; what they did not see was not really there.
Prompt: Outside the great wall, buildings clustered as if every town he had passed through had been gathered and set down there, sidebyside and all pushed together. Inns thrust their upper stories above the tile roofs of houses, and squat warehouses, broad and windowless, shouldered against them all. Red brick and gray stone and plastered white, jumbled and mixed together, they spread as far as the eye could see. Baerlon could have vanished into it without being noticed, and Whitebridge swallowed up twenty times over with hardly a ripple.
And the wall itself. The sheer, fiftyfoot height of pale gray stone, streaked with silver and white, swept out in a great circle, curving to north and south till he wondered how far it must run. All along its length towers rose, round and standing high above the wall's own height, redandwhite banners whipping in the wind atop each one. From inside the wall other towers peeked out, slender towers even taller than those at the walls, and domes gleaming white and gold in the sun. A thousand stories had painted cities in his mind, the great cities of kings and queens, of thrones and powers and legends, and Caemlyn fit into those minddeep pictures as water fits into a jug.Half a dozen of the Queen's Guards stood at the gates, their clean redandwhite tabards and burnished plateandmail a sharp contrast to most of the people streaming under the stone arch. Backs rigid and heads straight, they eyed the incomers with disdainful wariness. It was plain they would just as soon have turned away most of those coming in. Aside from keeping a way clear for traffic leaving the city, though, and having a hard word with those who tried to push too fast, they did not hinder anyone
Prompt: Outside the great wall, buildings clustered as if every town he had passed through had been gathered and set down there, sidebyside and all pushed together. Inns thrust their upper stories above the tile roofs of houses, and squat warehouses, broad and windowless, shouldered against them all. Red brick and gray stone and plastered white, jumbled and mixed together, they spread as far as the eye could see. Baerlon could have vanished into it without being noticed, and Whitebridge swallowed up twenty times over with hardly a ripple.
And the wall itself. The sheer, fiftyfoot height of pale gray stone, streaked with silver and white, swept out in a great circle, curving to north and south till he wondered how far it must run. All along its length towers rose, round and standing high above the wall's own height, redandwhite banners whipping in the wind atop each one. From inside the wall other towers peeked out, slender towers even taller than those at the walls, and domes gleaming white and gold in the sun. A thousand stories had painted cities in his mind, the great cities of kings and queens, of thrones and powers and legends, and Caemlyn fit into those minddeep pictures as water fits into a jug.
Prompt: The city rose on low hills, like steps climbing to a center. Another wall encircled that center, shining pure white and running over the hills. Inside that were even more towers and domes, white and gold and purple, their elevation atop the hills making them seem to look down on the rest of Caemlyn. Rand thought that must be the Inner City of which Bunt had spoken.
The Caemlyn Road itself changed as soon as it was inside the city, becoming a wide boulevard, split down the middle by broad strips of grass and trees. The grass was brown and the tree branches bare, but people hurried by as if they saw nothing unusual, laughing, talking, arguing, doing all the things that people do. Just as if they had no idea that there had been no spring yet this year and might be none. They did not see, Rand realized, could not or would not. Their eyes slid away from leafless branches, and they walked across the dead and dying grass without once looking down. What they did not see, they could ignore; what they did not see was not really there.
Prompt: Outside the great wall, buildings clustered as if every town he had passed through had been gathered and set down there, sidebyside and all pushed together. Inns thrust their upper stories above the tile roofs of houses, and squat warehouses, broad and windowless, shouldered against them all. Red brick and gray stone and plastered white, jumbled and mixed together, they spread as far as the eye could see. Baerlon could have vanished into it without being noticed, and Whitebridge swallowed up twenty times over with hardly a ripple.
And the wall itself. The sheer, fiftyfoot height of pale gray stone, streaked with silver and white, swept out in a great circle, curving to north and south till he wondered how far it must run. All along its length towers rose, round and standing high above the wall's own height, redandwhite banners whipping in the wind atop each one. From inside the wall other towers peeked out, slender towers even taller than those at the walls, and domes gleaming white and gold in the sun. A thousand stories had painted cities in his mind, the great cities of kings and queens, of thrones and powers and legends, and Caemlyn fit into those minddeep pictures as water fits into a jug.Half a dozen of the Queen's Guards stood at the gates, their clean redandwhite tabards and burnished plateandmail a sharp contrast to most of the people streaming under the stone arch. Backs rigid and heads straight, they eyed the incomers with disdainful wariness. It was plain they would just as soon have turned away most of those coming in. Aside from keeping a way clear for traffic leaving the city, though, and having a hard word with those who tried to push too fast, they did not hinder anyone
Prompt: fantasy City part of a large keep. old, Jean-Baptiste Monge style, Anton Pieck style watercolor, ink. Picturesque and colorful. Bright colors of an old city that once was the most beautiful in the world. the buildings are taller than the clouds and more magical than the elves
Prompt: fantasy City part of a large keep. old, Jean-Baptiste Monge style, Anton Pieck style watercolor, ink. Picturesque and colorful. Bright colors of an old city that once was the most beautiful in the world. the buildings are taller than the clouds and more magical than the elves
Prompt: fantasy City part of a large keep. old, Jean-Baptiste Monge style, Anton Pieck style watercolor, ink. Picturesque and colorful. Bright colors of an old city that once was the most beautiful in the world. the buildings are taller than the clouds and more magical than the elves
Prompt: fantasy City part of a large keep. old, Jean-Baptiste Monge style, Anton Pieck style watercolor, ink. Picturesque and colorful. Bright colors of an old city that once was the most beautiful in the world. the buildings are taller than the clouds and more magical than the elves
Prompt: fantasy City part of a large keep. old, Jean-Baptiste Monge style, Anton Pieck style watercolor, ink. Picturesque and colorful. Bright colors of an old city that once was the most beautiful in the world. the buildings are taller than the clouds and more magical than the elves
Prompt: City old, Jean-Baptiste Monge style, Anton Pieck style watercolor, ink. Picturesque and colorful. Bright colors of an old city that once was the most beautiful in the world. the buildings are taller than the clouds and more magical than the elves
Prompt: Crayon sketch. Ghostly haunted ships with limply hanging sails, complicated rigging, anchored near shore, people running out of the water, eerie fog, mysterious atmosphere, colorful figures in baroque clothing stand at the front of the wooden brown bridge, detailed rigging, dark and ominous mood and foggy surroundings, inspired by Anton Pieck
Prompt: small fishing village that takes pride in their home. they have a strong community feeling and protect each other. every house has a boat slip or dock, a sailing ship and a warehouse
Prompt: small fishing village that takes pride in their home. they have a strong community feeling and protect each other. every house has a boat slip or dock and warehouse
Prompt: small fishing village that takes pride in their home. they have a strong community feeling and protect each other. every house has a boat slip or dock and warehouse
Prompt: oil painting fantasy anime dwarf vox machina A poor young man wanders in a dark alley lit by an old lamppost which reveals a little fog. the dwarf is in a dank dark alley with tall brick walls. He cries and hides under a long, dilapidated coat, worn by time, a coat reaching down to his knees. His shoes have holes. He wears an old hat trimmed with a white feather that he stole from a pigeon. He likes to feed the pigeons who accompany him and who are his only friends. A fine drizzle falls gently on them.
Prompt: oil painting fantasy anime dwarf vox machina A poor young man wanders in a dark alley lit by an old lamppost which reveals a little fog. the dwarf is in a dank dark alley with tall brick walls. He cries and hides under a long, dilapidated coat, worn by time, a coat reaching down to his knees. His shoes have holes. He wears an old hat trimmed with a white feather that he stole from a pigeon. He likes to feed the pigeons who accompany him and who are his only friends. A fine drizzle falls gently on them.
Prompt: fantasy anime dwarf vox machina A poor young man wanders in a dark alley lit by an old lamppost which reveals a little fog. the dwarf is in a dank dark alley with tall brick walls. He cries and hides under a long, dilapidated coat, worn by time, a coat reaching down to his knees. His shoes have holes. He wears an old hat trimmed with a white feather that he stole from a pigeon. He likes to feed the pigeons who accompany him and who are his only friends. A fine drizzle falls gently on them.
Prompt: fantasy anime dwarf vox machina A poor young man wanders in a dark alley lit by an old lamppost which reveals a little fog. He cries and hides under a long, dilapidated coat, worn by time, a coat reaching down to his knees. His shoes have holes. He wears an old hat trimmed with a white feather that he stole from a pigeon. He likes to feed the pigeons who accompany him and who are his only friends. A fine drizzle falls gently on them.
Prompt: A poor young man wanders in a dark alley lit by an old lamppost which reveals a little fog. He cries and hides under a long, dilapidated coat, worn by time, a coat reaching down to his knees. His shoes have holes. He wears an old hat trimmed with a white feather that he stole from a pigeon. He likes to feed the pigeons who accompany him and who are his only friends. A fine drizzle falls gently on them.
Prompt: i am a gnome and I'm singin' this borrowed tune with my family band in a bar or tavern.
the band is playing and singing a song we took from the Rolling Stones and we are
Too wasted to write my own
Style: Michael Whelan, Nelson Boren, Rembrandt, Michael Cheval, Andrea Kowch, Polished, Masterful Surrealism, Photorealistic, unreal engine, 128K, UHD, crisp quality, light reflections, RHADS, atmospheric, 3D texture, octane render, volumetric lighting, highest quality AI art, classic composition, ultra-realistic, sharp, clear realism, pencil sharp edges, rich texture and color, hypnogogic, deep hashish trance, highest quality ai art, award-winning, diffuse light, a man with long black hair and mirrored sunglasses in a worn, flannel shirt, and grungy jeans playing a (grand-piano), sad, smoky, intimate, grief, glow, cocaine, pot, tequila bottle, low light, wooden cigar-store Indian in background people watching drinking having a good time
Prompt: i am a gnome and I'm singin' this borrowed tune
I took from the Rolling Stones
Alone in this empty room
Too wasted to write my own
Style: Michael Whelan, Nelson Boren, Rembrandt, Michael Cheval, Andrea Kowch, Polished, Masterful Surrealism, Photorealistic, unreal engine, 128K, UHD, crisp quality, light reflections, RHADS, atmospheric, 3D texture, octane render, volumetric lighting, highest quality AI art, classic composition, ultra-realistic, sharp, clear realism, pencil sharp edges, rich texture and color, hypnogogic, deep hashish trance, highest quality ai art, award-winning, diffuse light, a man with long black hair and mirrored sunglasses in a worn, flannel shirt, and grungy jeans playing a (grand-piano), sad, smoky, intimate, grief, glow, cocaine, pot, tequila bottle, low light, wooden cigar-store Indian in background
Prompt: monster, night time, with the glow of neon lights the tattooed halfling gang members chilling in the alley in the cutlass of the bottoms of the cram
Prompt: monster, night time, with the glow of neon lights the tattooed halfling gang members chilling in the alley in the cutlass of the bottoms of the cram
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.
