The city in this song is not a backdrop but an antagonist: love seems to disappear quickly there, strangers scrutinize the speaker’s smile, and ordinary waking life feels more disorienting than sleep. Against that pressure, the wish to walk together inside a dream becomes a modest escape route. The narrator is not asking for a perfect future, only for a safe hand and a companion who can share the same unreal refuge.

The lyric shifts between fatigue and absurdity, especially when it asks whether anyone normal remains in the city. That flashes of irritation keeps the dream imagery from becoming merely sentimental; the speaker is worn down by social noise as much as by romantic absence. Maja Milinković’s career has a documented connection to Bosnian sevdah and Portuguese fado, traditions she has discussed as narrative forms concerned with love and longing in a 2024 Balkan Diskurs profile republished by Global Voices. That profile offers context, not a review of this track, and no substantial track-specific criticism surfaced. What the song captures well is the exhaustion of staying awake in a world that feels less trustworthy than the dream one wants to enter.

The song’s fantasy of walking in a dream places it in the ballad tradition of turning sleep into refuge, but the verses keep returning to the social irritations of waking life: staring strangers, a city where affection seems to vanish, the tiring sense that nobody is normal. That contrast makes the beloved feel like more than a romantic partner; they are imagined as relief from an environment the narrator cannot comfortably inhabit. Milinković’s known engagement with sevdah and fado is useful as context for her interest in narrative songs of longing, though no source classifies this specific track. The lyric itself earns its dream image by showing what the speaker wants to escape.