DREAM opens in quiet light, a moment that feels both deliberate and fragile. LISA stands in soft focus, Kentaro Sakaguchi framed at a careful distance.
Even before a word is sung, the still frames suggest a history that cannot be spoken outright.
Released on August 14, 2025, as part of her Alter Ego album, the track was produced by Shintaro Yasuda and her0ism, with the short film directed by Ojun Kwon.
Its arrangement is pared back to piano, light strings, and vocals captured close enough to feel as if they could be spoken in the same room.
The film moves with an unhurried rhythm. Scenes hold for an extra beat, whether it is a hand against a car window, steam drifting from a cup, or two people sitting together in quiet recognition.
These moments are not tied to a linear plot but to a feeling that settles in slowly.
There is nostalgia here, though not for one specific memory. It carries the atmosphere of light at the end of the day, or the quiet after a conversation fades.
One YouTube viewer described it as having “a warmth that makes you think of someone you can’t quite place.”
Sakaguchi’s casting draws on his reputation from Japanese romance dramas, where a glance can hold as much weight as a line of dialogue.
Placing him opposite one of K-pop’s most recognisable figures brings together two different performance worlds in a way that feels intentional.
LISA appears in soft, muted tones throughout, a shift from the more striking looks of her other eras.
This subtle styling means that the smallest gestures, the lift of her eyes, the way her hands move, become the focus.
Fans on social media have been isolating these details and sharing slowed clips, convinced they reveal parts of the story.
Halfway through, a conversation in the kitchen shifts the tone. She asks what he would like to be in his next life.
He is unsure, then directs the question back to her. She answers, “a tree.”
After a pause, he decides he would be the lake in front of the tree, because of the way trees reflect on water.
She smiles. In the next breath, the story returns to a lake, where she sits in a boat holding a funeral urn.
She hugs it, and the camera rests long enough to let the audience think about what they are seeing. It is never confirmed whether she scatters the ashes.
One way to read this is as grief. If he is the lake and she is the tree, their only meeting point is in reflection.
The urn marks him as absent, the boat journey as a final act of care. The film cuts before any release, leaving the choice unspoken.
Another way to read it is as the end of a relationship, with the funeral elements as metaphor.
In this version, the urn holds what is left of the bond. She remains rooted. He becomes the surface that occasionally returns her image.
In both cases, the lake and tree exchange gives the story its shape, a link between the living and what is gone.
The ambiguity matches the song’s own push and pull between memory and reality.
Lines like “If all that we were is all that we’ll ever be, it’s bittersweet” capture the acceptance of limits while still holding on.
In Neon Music’s earlier review of “Dream”, we explored how the track reads as a bittersweet trip through memory.
The short film turns those emotions into a visual space, one where words fall away and the meaning sits in pauses, glances, and unanswered questions.
Viewers in Korea have highlighted the project’s cinematic quality, while Japanese outlets have pointed to how Sakaguchi’s understated performance complements LISA’s reserved presence.
International coverage has focused on their visual chemistry and the choice to present this work more like an art film than a conventional music video.
The colour palette leans towards gold and soft browns, giving each frame the texture of an old photograph.
Whether seen as a portrait of grief or a quiet breakup, DREAM leaves its audience with an image rather than an answer – a final shot of LISA on the water, holding what remains.
The decision of what happens next belongs to the viewer.
