Nightmare is a slow, trembling descent into the forgotten corridors of consciousness — a place where the familiar grows distorted and the sacred becomes strangely mechanical. It is a meditation on the quiet rituals we perform without understanding, the inherited gestures we carry like fossils in the body. Here, time is no longer linear but circular, endlessly looping through echoes of memory, guilt, birth, and dissolution.
The film treats the subconscious like a dimly lit church: a place of devotion without doctrine, fear without source, faith without object. Faces dissolve, identities blur, and the self fractures into silhouettes and shadows that continue moving long after meaning has slipped away.
“Nightmare” is not about terror, it is about the soft erosion of certainty. The gentle collapse of the boundary between the world we think we know and the one pulsing beneath it. The dream becomes a liturgy, the liturgy becomes a hallucination, and the hallucination becomes the truest language the soul can speak.
What remains is a fragile, flickering human essence, unguarded, luminous, trembling, searching for clarity inside a universe that keeps whispering back: you are only passing through. AI generated music and sound design by Hrant Khachatryan