Awakening the Dreamer Within

Dreams have always been humanity’s most daring invention. Evolution gave us REM sleep, that strange ministry of dreams, so we could practice the possible before stepping into the real. Our nightly dreams clarify; our daytime dreams complicate. They stir up fear and desire, push us forward with urgency, and remind us of the fact that life itself is both fragile and magnificent. To dream is to risk stepping onto a raft and paddling across the roiling ocean of what could be. The danger, of course, is that we may sink. Yet the greater danger lies in never dreaming at all, drifting through life on autopilot, marooned in the “givens” of time, place, and culture.

Writers and poets have long insisted that dreamers are the ones truly awake to life. They are the bold architects of the “possible,” daring to imagine beyond the probable. Their dreams are not distractions from reality but acts of deep engagement with it. The poet Rainer Maria Rilke urged us to “live the questions,” while Walt Whitman reminded us that no one can grow for another. To dream, then, is both a responsibility and a privilege—it means claiming authorship of your own future.

But here lies the tension: many of our dreams are not really ours. They are borrowed, the hand-me-down ambitions of our parents, the glossy ideals of advertising, the tidy templates of culture. True dreaming asks us to strip these away until we find what belongs to us alone. That’s when dreams become more than castles in the air; they become the foundations of an authentic life.

As I write this,  I hope my friends and family feel inspired to reflect on their own dreams. Are you living yours, or carrying someone else’s? There is joy in owning your own vision and courage in daring to act on it.