Last night, I had the strangest and most unexpected dream that unsettled me. It lingered in that space between memory and meaning, where emotions don’t quite know where to land. I dreamt I was at a concert, and my bias wrecker was performing. I stood near the edge of the stage, close but never quite at the center. He knew me. He kept trying to speak to me. But every time he did, his group mates reminded us we couldn’t be seen together.
When he managed to speak, his English was broken—almost clear but not quite. There was something urgent behind the garbled words, something that felt like a confession, or a truth he wanted to share. But it was never fully said.
The dream changed. He was unwell, fainting. Slipping in and out of consciousness, and I stayed by him. I carried him on my back along a stormy road near the sea, looking for help. It was panicked, messy, chaotic. At one point, he handed me his phone, said something i struggled to understand until i thought to myself, "oh, he wants to call his mum maybe" So imagine my shock, when i asked him who he wanted to call and he said said "sasaeng,". I, of course, took it upon myself to take it as him wanting to speak to his fans. I helped him find the right app and he chose to record a message. And in it, he said: "I love her. It's all that matters."
Then he passed out.
In the dream, I panicked—not just for him, but for me. The implication of his words felt enormous. It was dangerous. Like a career-ending secret had just been whispered into the universe. Then the scene changed again. He was gone. I saw him in the distance being carried away by his group mates. I followed, but turned the corner to find no one. And that's when the tsunami came.
The sky shifted. The air thickened. The ground vibrated. I could feel it coming before I saw it. I ran, unsure of where to go. The underground? The skyscraper? I chose the building. But as I crossed the road, the water hit. Everything became slippery. I clung to a rail for dear life. Then I woke up.
Dreams like these don't just visit without reason. They're messages. Reflections. Echoes of what's buried beneath the surface. For me, this dream cracked open themes I wrestle with often:
Being seen and not being seen.
Being wanted, but in secret.
The burden of care.
The weight of representation and desire.
The fear of being left behind.
The flood of emotions I sometimes hold back until they threaten to drown me.
I think about what it means to love from the margins—to want someone who is both idealized and off-limits. To be the kind of person who shows up, carries others, stays calm in the storm, but is often left alone at the edge when the wave comes.
I wonder, sometimes, if the "I love her" in my dream wasn’t about a relationship at all. Maybe it was about the part of me that I struggle to accept fully—my identity, my visibility, my right to be loved out loud. Maybe the dream was telling me: what matters is that you know you're worth being chosen, even if the world keeps trying to hide it.
And that tsunami? Maybe it wasn’t a threat. Maybe it was everything I've suppressed, finally demanding to be felt.
Have you ever had a dream that told the truth your waking mind was afraid to admit?
Let me know in the comments or DM me. I'd love to hear your story.