There’s a quiet electricity running through In Dream, the new record from Courtney Bailey. Never one to rest in a single emotional temperature, Bailey unfolds a nocturnal landscape where the personal becomes cinematic, each track pulsing like a half-remembered film scene.

Recorded between Berlin and Los Angeles, In Dream builds on the ethereal textures that have defined Bailey’s earlier work, yet trades fragility for nuance. The production shimmers — synths rising and collapsing like tides, guitars dissolving into mist — but the gravitational pull remains her voice: intimate, restless, and starkly human.

Lyrically, the album operates in the thin membrane between waking and sleep. Bailey writes of fleeting contact, suspended time, and the blurred weight of memory. Tracks like “Silver Air” and “Open Eyes” don’t resolve so much as linger, their phrasing elastic, their emotional residue palpable.

But In Dream is more than introspection — it’s also motion. The album pulses with rhythm, exploring that moment when solitude shifts into surrender. Hints of trip-hop and ambient house surface beneath the dream-pop veneer, proving Bailey’s command of both mood and momentum.

Visually, her aesthetic continues this tension: abstract, mutable, yet grounded in tactile detail. The accompanying videos expand the album’s inner geography, shaping dream logic into visual form.

In Dream is not a departure but a quiet evolution — a deep exhale from an artist unafraid to drift through emotional uncertainty and return, somehow, with clarity.