Adèle Castillon’s “Rêve” feels like a midnight stroll through a romantic film that keeps glitching between dream and nightmare. The narrator imagines a cinematic kind of love, picturing hand-in-hand walks that stretch “très, très loin,” yet every affectionate scene is shadowed by doubt. She craves the other person’s attention so intensely that their single glance can make her “m’efface” – disappear. Love is painted as both the ultimate adventure and the ultimate threat, where happiness is traded for “ta détresse” and passion is inseparable from pain.
Under the song’s airy synths and sweet melodies lies a confession of emotional vertigo. The lyrics spiral between hope and fear: promises of eternal embrace collide with visions of “t’enlacer pour la mort.” It is the tug-of-war of wanting to live a grand, movie-style romance while dreading the heartbreak that often follows. “Rêve” captures the thrill of surrendering to love and the chilling realization that the same force can unravel you in a heartbeat – a bittersweet daydream that lingers long after the music fades.