Dreams in Nightmares

Writer and director Shatara Michelle Ford’s second feature film **DREAMS IN NIGHTMARES** is an engaging blend of chosen family, enduring friendship, and the search for belonging in a country that often asks too much of those living outside its traditional margins. When Los Angeles-based non-tenured professor Z (Denée Benton) and longtime college friend and New York-based business consultant Tasha (Sasha Compère) are unexpectedly laid off from their jobs, they recruit fellow college friend and poet Lauren (Dezi Bing) to help search for their mutual friend Kel (Mars Storm Rucker), who has seemingly disappeared without explanation. Bound together by years of friendship and an unwavering sense of loyalty, the three queer friends travel from Pittsburgh to Kansas City before eventually making their way toward Mexico City, reconnecting with people from Kel's past while encountering moments of warmth, hospitality, prejudice, and isolation.  Ford wisely resists turning the journey into a conventional mystery or a carefree Kerouacian road-trip adventure. Instead, every stop along the way becomes another conversation about identity, belonging, and what it means to create spaces where people can simply exist without apology. What makes **DREAMS IN NIGHTMARES** so refreshing is not simply that it centers on a group of four longtime friends navigating love, identity, and belonging — a perspective still far too uncommon in American independent cinema—but that Ford allows their characters to be fully dimensional. Their identities inform their experiences without completely defining them. They tease one another, argue, laugh, grieve, and lean on one another with an intimacy that feels lived-in rather than manufactured. The film's greatest strength is the authenticity of that friendship. Ford is aided tremendously by cinematographer Ludovica Isidori, whose patient camera finds beauty sometimes in roadside Americana and sometimes in quieter moments at dusk without romanticizing it. Equally strong are the performances from Benton, Compère, and Bing, who develop an easy chemistry that makes years of shared history believable. Supporting turns from a hilarious Jasmin Savoy Brown and, particularly, Regina Taylor and Robert Wisdom as Kel's well-meaning but emotionally outdated parents provide some of the film's most quietly affecting moments. As the film unfolds, the meaning behind Z's recurring dream of standing before an open doorway gradually comes into focus. Like the famous closing image of **THE SEARCHERS**, or even Chloé Zhao's **NOMADLAND**, the doorway becomes less a destination than an invitation—a threshold separating certainty from possibility. Crossing it requires accepting both freedom and uncertainty.  Ford's **DREAMS IN NIGHTMARES** leaves us with the suggestion that growth often begins only after we're willing to step into the unknown, echoing Robert Frost's enduring notion that choosing the less-traveled path can ultimately make all the difference.