LISA – Dream. Lyrics & Meaning
LISA – Dream: A Bittersweet Escape to Yesterday
Ever get stuck in a memory loop? You know, when your brain decides to play a highlight reel of a past relationship on repeat, especially right before you fall asleep. You find yourself thinking about all the what-ifs, the conversations you wish you could have, and the moments you’d give anything to relive just one more time. It’s a universal feeling, that ache for a time that’s gone for good. Well, there’s a song that captures this exact feeling so perfectly, it’s almost like a diary entry set to music. I’m talking about LISA’s solo track, “Dream,” and trust me, we’re about to dive deep into this beautifully heartbreaking story.
Unpacking the Heartache in LISA’s “Dream”
- LISA – Thunder : The Roaring Sound of Self-Made Success
- LISA – Elastigirl : More Than Just Flexible, It’s About Bouncing Back
- DJ Snake, Ozuna, Megan Thee Stallion & LISA – SG : A Global Invitation to a Sizzling Night Out
- LISA – When I’m With You [ft. Tyla] : Finding Freedom in Surrender
- LISA – My Only Wish [originally by Britney Spears] : A Heartfelt Christmas Plea for Love
- LISA – Rockstar : An Anthem for Unapologetic Self-Belief
- LISA – Born Again [ft. Doja Cat & RAYE] : The Ultimate ‘You Missed Out’ Anthem
- LISA – Moonlit Floor (Kiss Me) : Surrendering to a Spontaneous Parisian Romance
- LISA – New Woman [ft. ROSALÍA] : A Fierce Anthem of Rebirth and Self-Made Power
- LISA – Dream : A Bittersweet Escape to Yesterday
Right from the get-go, LISA isn’t painting a picture of a happy, moved-on person. This song is a raw, honest monologue whispered into the void, hoping the other person might somehow hear it. She’s completely lost in thought, trying to figure out where things stand, even though they’ve long since ended. It’s that confusing space after a breakup where silence is the only answer you get.
The Ghost of Tokyo and Unanswered Questions
The song opens with a confession of pure uncertainty. It’s this vulnerability that immediately pulls you in. She’s not just missing him; she’s questioning everything.
I’ve been thinking
That I got no idea what you’re thinking
Are you happy? Are you sad?
Are you always gonna hate me for that night in Tokyo?
That one line, “that night in Tokyo,” is so specific, isn’t it? It grounds the entire song in a real, tangible memory. It wasn’t just a slow fade; something significant happened there, something that she clearly feels responsible for. She’s haunted by the possibility that he hates her for it. She had hoped for an “open-ended” conclusion, maybe a chance to reconnect down the line, but his silence tells her everything she needs to know: you can’t hold on to something once you let it go. It’s a harsh but true lesson.
The Dreamscape: A Safe Haven for a Broken Heart
So, when reality is too painful and the phone calls go unanswered, where do you go? For LISA, the answer is her dreams. This is the core of the song, this retreat into a world she can control, a place where the past is still the present.
“Real Enough”
This is where she finds her loophole. She knows it’s not real, but she doesn’t care. The feeling she gets in this dream world is potent enough to get her through the night. It’s a conscious decision to indulge in a fantasy because it’s the only place they can still be “us.”
But I know a place where we can be us
I know it ain’t real, but it’s real enough
From sun going down to sun coming up
It’s like you’re here with me
That phrase, “it’s real enough,” is so powerful. It’s the ultimate form of emotional self-preservation. It’s her creating a sanctuary in her own mind where the pain of reality can’t touch her, even if it’s just for a few hours.
Back to 2019
The chorus is where the nostalgia hits its peak. By naming a specific year, “2019,” she transports us right back with her. It feels like we’re flipping through an old photo album. This wasn’t just any time; it was their time.
Whenever I close my eyes
It’s taking me back in time
Been drowning in dreams lately
Like it’s 2019, baby
The imagery is so vivid: catching up, driving down an old, familiar street. These are simple, beautiful moments. But it’s all tinged with sadness, a feeling she perfectly labels as “bittersweet.” It’s sweet to remember, but bitter to know it’s only a memory. The final line of the chorus, “At least a girl can dream,” is a sigh of resignation. It’s her admitting that this is all she has left.
The Final, Desperate Plea
As the song progresses, the fantasy becomes more elaborate and the desperation more palpable. She mentions playing a song for “three nights on the stereo,” almost like a ritual to summon his memory. The reference to a “movie scene, DiCaprio” paints a picture of a grand, cinematic romance that now only exists in her head. And this line? It’s a total gut-punch:
Oh, I put my makeup on just to fall asleep
Think about that for a second. She’s making herself presentable for a meeting that will only happen in her subconscious. It shows how much this dream world means to her; it’s her only chance to see him again, and she wants to look her best. But then comes the final twist. The lyric in the last chorus changes subtly but devastatingly from “If all that we were is all that we’ll ever be” to “If all that we were is something we’ll never be.” It’s a moment of crushing realization. The fantasy is cracking. This leads to her final, heartbreaking question:
Can we be friends at least?
After all the romantic dreaming and longing, she ends with this. It’s a white flag. A plea to just keep a tiny piece of him in her life, even if it’s not what she truly wants. It’s a step down from lover, a step down from the dream, and a fall back into painful reality.
The beautiful message hidden in this sad song is that it’s okay to grieve. It’s human to create safe spaces in our minds to process loss. These dreams aren’t a sign of weakness, but a tool for survival, a way for the heart to slowly heal by revisiting the past until it no longer has the same power over us. It’s a song about the resilience of a heart that, despite being broken, still knows how to find a little bit of comfort, even if it’s just in a dream.
Ultimately, “Dream” is a stunningly honest portrayal of holding on when you know you should let go. It’s for anyone who’s ever found more comfort in a memory than in their present reality. But that’s just my take on it. What did you feel when you listened to the song? Does it bring up a different story for you? Let’s talk about it!
