A daydream is an evasion.

“A daydream is an evasion.” — so spoke Thomas Merton, the monk, the poet, and the seeker of truth, whose words were as still and piercing as the cloistered silence he cherished. In these few, austere syllables, Merton draws a clear and difficult line between dreaming and escaping. For he, who had gazed deeply into the human soul, knew how easily the mind flees from reality into the soft illusion of desire. A daydream, he warns, is not the vision of the prophet nor the imagination of the artist — it is the self’s retreat from truth, the soul’s refusal to face what is. It is not creation, but avoidance; not ascent, but slumber.

The origin of this quote lies in Merton’s reflections on contemplation and self-awareness. Living as a Trappist monk, he spent his life seeking union with God through silence and meditation. Yet even within the walls of the monastery, he saw that the mind is restless — ever eager to invent fictions to escape from the nakedness of reality. In his book No Man Is an Island, from which this thought arises, he writes that spiritual growth demands courage: the courage to see oneself without illusion. For him, the daydream was the mind’s subtle rebellion against truth — the temptation to dwell in what might be, instead of embracing what is.

Merton understood that imagination is a divine gift, but when it becomes untethered from honesty, it transforms into evasion. The daydreamer wraps himself in fantasies, not to create, but to hide. He flees from pain, responsibility, or imperfection, and builds a private world where his desires are fulfilled without effort, his fears dissolved without struggle. But in that refuge, the soul stagnates. The daydream, comforting though it feels, becomes a fog that dims the eyes of the spirit. In avoiding the truth, we lose the chance to grow into it. Thus, Merton’s words are not a condemnation of creativity, but a call to vigilance — a reminder to discern between holy imagination and hollow escape.

Consider the story of Don Quixote, the knight of Cervantes’ great tale. He is the perfect symbol of Merton’s warning. Lost in his daydreams of heroism and chivalry, he mistakes windmills for giants and peasants for princesses. His heart is noble, but his vision is false. He lives in a fantasy, blind to the real beauty and suffering of the world around him. His daydreams, meant to elevate him, become his chains. Only when he awakens to reality — though painfully — does he find peace. So too, Merton teaches, the soul that hides in illusions, however beautiful, is still in bondage.

Yet Merton’s words are not without compassion. He knew that the heart drifts into daydreams because it hungers for meaning and fears its own emptiness. The world, with its noise and sorrow, often seems unbearable, and so we escape into the theatre of our minds. But Merton calls us to a greater courage — the courage of presence. To face the world as it is, to sit with its silence, to bear its weight and its beauty without fleeing. True peace, he writes, is not found in escape, but in acceptance — in seeing reality clearly, and loving it nonetheless.

This teaching reaches beyond the cloister walls; it is for all who live in the restless age of distraction. Today, our daydreams have multiplied — glowing screens, endless fantasies, lives lived in fragments of imagination. Yet the essence of Merton’s warning remains: every moment we flee into illusion, we lose the opportunity to awaken. The mind that cannot dwell in stillness cannot know truth. The heart that will not face itself cannot know love. To live truly, we must turn from the comfort of daydreams to the discipline of attention — to see the world as it is, not as we wish it to be.

So, my listener, take this wisdom as a call to wakefulness. Do not evade your own life. When you feel the pull of daydreams — the escape into fantasy, into what might have been or could be — pause and return to the present. The moment before you, however imperfect, is sacred. It is where reality dwells, and where truth can meet you. Let your dreams serve creation, not escape; let your imagination build, not hide.

For in the end, Thomas Merton’s words remind us that the truest awakening is not to dream, but to see — to gaze upon life, unclouded and unafraid. The one who faces reality with courage is more alive than a thousand dreamers. For though daydreams may charm the mind, only truth can awaken the soul.