When Dreams Turn Deadly: The Many Layers of Before I Wake
There are horror films that haunt because of what they show, and then there are films like Before I Wake — the ones that disturb because of what they suggest. Directed by Mike Flanagan, the visionary behind The Haunting of Hill House and Doctor Sleep, Before I Wake (2016) slipped quietly into the world but left behind echoes that fans still analyze, dissect, and emotionally wrestle with.
It’s a movie that refuses to be just a ghost story. Instead, it’s a meditation on grief disguised as a supernatural thriller — one where dreams become portals, nightmares have flesh, and the living are haunted not by the dead, but by their inability to let go.
The Boy Who Dreamed in Color
The story begins with Jessie (Kate Bosworth) and Mark (Thomas Jane), a grieving couple who adopt an eight-year-old boy named Cody (Jacob Tremblay). Their home, filled with the quiet pain of losing their own child, soon becomes a canvas for wonder and terror alike — because when Cody dreams, his visions come to life.
At first, it’s enchanting. Butterflies fill the room in glowing waves, flickering like magical lanterns. Jessie and Mark, starved for beauty, watch in awe. But the wonder soon turns dark. Cody is terrified to fall asleep, and when he does, his nightmares manifest a monstrous, skeletal figure — “The Canker Man” — who devours people whole.
The plot dances between fantasy and horror, but its true pulse lies in Jessie’s growing obsession with using Cody’s gift to see her dead son again. Her grief, once silent, becomes monstrous — and the film turns from ghost story to emotional reckoning. The closer Jessie comes to “reuniting” with her child, the further she slips into dangerous moral territory.
Mike Flanagan’s storytelling gently blurs lines: What if the real monster isn’t the thing haunting the boy, but the grief haunting the adults?
The Canker Man and the Fear of Memory
Fans of Before I Wake have long debated the symbolism behind the Canker Man. Some see it as a traditional monster — the residue of Cody’s trauma from losing his biological mother. Others, however, believe it’s the embodiment of grief itself.
In several online threads and YouTube breakdowns, viewers pointed out how the Canker Man only appears when Cody’s fears are ignored — suggesting that suppressing pain gives it power. In one particularly popular fan theory, the Canker Man represents Cody’s subconscious attempt to make sense of death: every time someone disappears into the creature, it’s his mind’s way of “digesting” loss.
Mike Flanagan later confirmed that the creature was designed around this exact concept. In an interview, he said, “The Canker Man is grief — not evil, not demonic, but a distorted reflection of how trauma manifests when a child doesn’t understand it.”
The design of the creature itself, made of crumpled ash and writhing shadow, was inspired by Flanagan’s own nightmares as a child. During post-production, he revealed that the team struggled for weeks to decide how visible the monster should be. Early cuts showed too much, which made it feel too literal. The final version — half-seen, half-felt — mirrored how grief lingers in the background of our minds.
When the Dreams Fade, Truth Emerges
The emotional turning point comes when Jessie uncovers the truth about Cody’s past. His biological mother died of cancer, and he’s been dreaming of her illness ever since — transforming her image into the terrifying Canker Man.
In the final act, Jessie helps Cody confront the monster and tells him the truth he’s been too afraid to face: that the Canker Man is his mother’s memory, twisted by fear. When he accepts it, the creature dissolves, and Cody’s dreams finally become peaceful.
But even this resolution sparked debates among fans. Was the ending real, or another dream?
Some viewers insist the final scenes — Jessie comforting Cody as butterflies swirl again — represent a dream state Cody created to cope with trauma. The color palette, too bright and warm after so much darkness, feels like an emotional fantasy. A few fan theories even suggest Jessie herself is dreaming — an echo of her desire to heal.
Mike Flanagan addressed these theories with his usual ambiguity. “Interpretation is part of the film’s design,” he said in a 2018 interview. “Whether Cody’s world is real or dreamt doesn’t matter. What matters is that healing happens — in whatever form we can imagine.”
What Audiences Expected, and What They Got
When the film’s trailer first dropped in 2015, horror fans were expecting another jump-scare-heavy supernatural flick. The buzz was strong — after all, it came from the director of Oculus, known for mind-bending horror. Jacob Tremblay had just broken out with Room, and audiences were eager to see him in another emotionally complex role.
However, Before I Wake confounded those expectations. It wasn’t pure horror — it was tender, tragic, and deeply psychological. Instead of relying on gore or shock, it leaned into emotional horror — the pain of loss, the terror of memory, the fragility of dreams.
This tonal confusion partly explains the film’s delayed release. Originally slated for 2015, the movie was shelved after Relativity Media’s bankruptcy, leaving it in limbo for nearly two years. By the time it finally premiered on Netflix in 2017, the buzz had cooled, but new audiences discovered it — and that’s when the cult following began.
Fans praised its poetic sadness and visual beauty. Reddit threads and Letterboxd reviews called it “horror that heals” and “a film about trauma disguised as a ghost story.”
The Cast Behind the Magic
Jacob Tremblay’s performance as Cody is the movie’s fragile heart. Even at just nine years old, he delivered a performance far beyond his years. Flanagan later said that working with Tremblay was “like directing an old soul in a child’s body.” The boy’s ability to switch from wonder to fear in seconds gave the film its emotional gravity.
Kate Bosworth’s portrayal of Jessie was deeply personal. Having spoken publicly about her struggles with anxiety and motherhood fears, Bosworth admitted that she connected to Jessie’s need for control — her desperate attempt to fix what cannot be fixed. “It’s not about seeing her son again,” she said in one interview. “It’s about forgiving herself.”
Thomas Jane, as Mark, grounded the film with his quiet resilience, balancing Jessie’s obsession with acceptance. Off-screen, Jane had recently gone through personal loss, which he channeled into his performance. “Mark’s silence isn’t apathy,” he once explained. “It’s surrender. Sometimes love means letting go.”
The Dream That Almost Never Came True
Few people know how difficult Before I Wake was to bring to life. Flanagan shot it in 2013, but due to the studio’s financial troubles, it sat unreleased for nearly four years. During that time, Flanagan made Hush and Gerald’s Game for Netflix, both of which gained acclaim — ironically helping Before I Wake find a second life when the streamer picked it up.
The visual effects team also faced budget challenges. The butterfly sequences — now iconic — were initially hand-animated, with later CGI touch-ups. “Every butterfly was a labor of love,” the VFX supervisor recalled. “They represented beauty born from grief — something that needed to feel real.”
The director even filmed two alternate endings. In one, Jessie wakes up alone in Cody’s room, implying everything was a shared dream. The studio ultimately chose the more hopeful version — not because it was simpler, but because it “honored the film’s soul,” according to Flanagan.
The Movie That Refused to Be Just a Horror Story
Years later, Before I Wake continues to live quietly in online film circles, rediscovered by those who crave something gentler in their scares. Fans still debate its ending, trade interpretations of its imagery, and uncover new emotional layers with each rewatch.
What makes it endure isn’t its monster, but its mercy — the idea that even nightmares are born from love, and that sometimes the scariest thing isn’t death, but the dream of holding on too tightly.
In Mike Flanagan’s world, horror isn’t about what hides in the dark — it’s about what the light forces us to see. And Before I Wake, with all its aching tenderness and fractured dreams, might just be the most beautiful nightmare he’s ever given us.