My phone always automatically takes photos late at night - in the photos, I have a frown on my face and my body is covered in injuries.
And every time I take a photo, it happens to be the moment when I dream about my brother's death: falling into a well, being strangled, jumping off a building...
I tried desperately to shout, but no sound came out.
The psychiatrist said to me: "Every time you die in your dream, it's not him. It's you."
The little me who had never been loved in decades.
Concept: ** Summary of concept: ** A woman re-examines her childhood trauma through dreams, tearing apart the hidden pain of patriarchal preference, and finally completes her own redemption and reconciliation through confrontation and healing.