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This review may contain spoilers
When Comedy Turns into Coercion and Harm is Framed as Love
The trailer for A Dream Within a Dream promised a blend of sharp humor, intrigue, and fantasy flair — and with Liu Yuning in the lead, expectations were high. His past dramas have delivered both quality and emotional depth, so I settled in anticipating another hit. The first few episodes didn’t disappoint: hilarious scenes, chaotic disguises, clever banter, and a witty female lead.
I was hooked.
But somewhere along the way, the tone began to shift — and not in a good way.
The show leaned heavily into gas-lighting, coercion, and guilt-tripping, especially from ML towards the FL.
His desperation, shaped by childhood abandonment and unhealed wounds, was real—but the way the story romanticized it was not. His fear of losing the one person who’d shown him kindness quickly turned into obsessive control.
Emotional pressure, confessions laced with guilt, and a sense of entitlement to love were packaged as passion.
FL Song Yimeng, was systematically stripped of her agency, gaslit and coerced by the ML and this was framed as romance.
A big part of the early charm came from the dynamic between the FL and the ML’s masked identity. But over time, what started as intrigue slowly blurred into manipulation. The show leaned into that ambiguity without fully addressing its emotional cost, which made the unfolding relationship feel increasingly uneasy.
This show is known for parodying common tropes, and the background music clearly signals the humor. But unfortunately, the emotional abuse patterns weren’t framed as parody — they weren’t treated like a trope. Instead, the abusive ML was suddenly reframed mid-drama as a lovable, wounded hero. That’s where the cognitive dissonance hit hard. Framing harm as love just doesn’t sit right.
One of the few bright spots was the second couple. Shangguan He and Song Yiting were charming, grounded, and refreshingly different. Their relationship brought humor and warmth. A welcome contrast to the heavy-handed emotional entanglements elsewhere.
There were moments of brilliance, like the rare glimpses into 2ML Chu Guihong’s inner world—his grief, his loyalty, his silence.
And the drama had something to say about loneliness, power, and the hunger to be understood. But those threads were buried under a love story that mistook trauma bonding for destiny.
Visually, the drama remained polished throughout. The cinematography was consistently striking. Even as the emotional arc felt off, the visual storytelling stayed sharp and atmospheric.
The OST matched the tone shifts — comedy, lyrical, haunting.
If they’d just owned it as a ‘FL falls for the villain’ trope, it honestly could’ve been a 10/10 for me.
I've watched 32 out of 40 episodes.
#CognitiveExplorer
I was hooked.
But somewhere along the way, the tone began to shift — and not in a good way.
The show leaned heavily into gas-lighting, coercion, and guilt-tripping, especially from ML towards the FL.
His desperation, shaped by childhood abandonment and unhealed wounds, was real—but the way the story romanticized it was not. His fear of losing the one person who’d shown him kindness quickly turned into obsessive control.
Emotional pressure, confessions laced with guilt, and a sense of entitlement to love were packaged as passion.
FL Song Yimeng, was systematically stripped of her agency, gaslit and coerced by the ML and this was framed as romance.
A big part of the early charm came from the dynamic between the FL and the ML’s masked identity. But over time, what started as intrigue slowly blurred into manipulation. The show leaned into that ambiguity without fully addressing its emotional cost, which made the unfolding relationship feel increasingly uneasy.
This show is known for parodying common tropes, and the background music clearly signals the humor. But unfortunately, the emotional abuse patterns weren’t framed as parody — they weren’t treated like a trope. Instead, the abusive ML was suddenly reframed mid-drama as a lovable, wounded hero. That’s where the cognitive dissonance hit hard. Framing harm as love just doesn’t sit right.
One of the few bright spots was the second couple. Shangguan He and Song Yiting were charming, grounded, and refreshingly different. Their relationship brought humor and warmth. A welcome contrast to the heavy-handed emotional entanglements elsewhere.
There were moments of brilliance, like the rare glimpses into 2ML Chu Guihong’s inner world—his grief, his loyalty, his silence.
And the drama had something to say about loneliness, power, and the hunger to be understood. But those threads were buried under a love story that mistook trauma bonding for destiny.
Visually, the drama remained polished throughout. The cinematography was consistently striking. Even as the emotional arc felt off, the visual storytelling stayed sharp and atmospheric.
The OST matched the tone shifts — comedy, lyrical, haunting.
If they’d just owned it as a ‘FL falls for the villain’ trope, it honestly could’ve been a 10/10 for me.
I've watched 32 out of 40 episodes.
#CognitiveExplorer
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