At drama school, we were taught to write down your dreams and

The words of Lily James, “At drama school, we were taught to write down your dreams and carry them around in your wallet with you, and they’ll come true, but I didn’t do that,” are simple yet profound. Beneath their modest surface lies a meditation on dreams, faith, and the mysterious ways in which destiny unfolds. It is a confession not of doubt, but of humility—a recognition that life often fulfills us not through the careful plans we craft, but through the courage we show when we step into the unknown. In her words, one can hear the wistful wonder of someone who has lived the miracle of achievement without ever quite expecting it, who understands that the dream, though not written on paper, was written deeply in the heart.

To understand the origin of this quote, we must recall the journey of Lily James herself—a student of drama, trained in the demanding craft of storytelling, who rose to become one of the great voices and faces of her generation. In drama school, she was taught, as many young artists are, to name her dream—to write it down, to make it tangible, to summon it into the world through belief. But in her honesty, she admits she did not follow that ritual. And yet, the dream came true all the same. For what she speaks of here is not rebellion against hope, but a deeper truth: that life’s unfolding cannot always be commanded by intention; sometimes, it is faith in the work, not in the wish, that brings the dream to life.

There is a sacred irony in this confession, one that echoes through time. For even in the ancient world, teachers of wisdom told their disciples to write their desires upon their hearts. The Egyptians carved prayers for success upon stone, and the Greeks inscribed their ambitions on votive offerings to the gods. But there were always those who, like Lily James, understood that destiny listens more closely to action than to ritual. The dream is not fulfilled by its inscription on parchment or leather, but by the devotion with which one walks toward it every day. The wallet may hold the words, but the hands and spirit must hold the purpose.

Consider the story of Florence Nightingale, who, as a young woman, dreamed of becoming a healer in a world that forbade women from such ambitions. She never wrote her dream upon a scroll; instead, she carried it silently in her heart. Through tireless labor, courage, and compassion, she transformed the care of the wounded and the sick. Her dream, though unwritten, became immortal. Like Lily James, she teaches us that the dream does not demand ceremony—it demands commitment, and it comes alive when we dare to live it in deed, not merely in word.

What Lily James expresses with such gentle grace is a truth that defies superstition but embraces wonder. The practice of writing down one’s dreams can give shape to hope—it can focus the heart. Yet her story reminds us that even when the dream is not written, it is not lost. Some dreams, after all, are too large, too alive to fit upon a piece of paper. They grow in silence, nourished by courage, patience, and perseverance. They take root not in the pages of our journals, but in the journey itself. Sometimes, we do not even know the shape of our dream until it begins to unfold before us.

Her words also speak to a deeper wisdom about trust—the trust that the universe, or perhaps something divine within us, remembers our purpose even when we forget to record it. This is not the trust of passivity, but of alignment. To live earnestly, to give oneself fully to one’s craft or calling, is a prayer in motion. The dream that is not written but lived daily becomes, in its own time, a reality. In this way, the artist’s life becomes the parchment, and every act of faith, every effort of courage, becomes the ink with which destiny is written.

So, the lesson for all who listen is this: Do not fear if you have not written your dream down. Do not believe that forgetting the ritual means forsaking the vision. The dream is not a spell to be cast, but a seed to be nurtured. Live with intention, work with love, and your actions will become the language through which your dreams declare themselves to the world. Write if you must—but never mistake the writing for the becoming. For the truest dreams do not rest folded in a wallet; they breathe in the rhythm of our striving, they speak through our perseverance, and they rise, one quiet step at a time, into the light of fulfillment.

In the end, Lily James’s words remind us of a simple and timeless truth: that destiny is not summoned by paper, but awakened by purpose. Dreams that live in the heart cannot be forgotten, because the heart itself is their home. So, carry your dream, whether written or unspoken, and walk boldly into the life that calls you. For even if you never wrote it down, the universe has already read it within you.