Dreams are a scientific fact.

In a world balanced between reason and reverie, the musician and poet Robyn Hitchcock spoke a phrase that stirs both the mind and the soul: “Dreams are a scientific fact.” These words shimmer with paradox, binding the mystical and the rational, the poetic and the empirical. To those who live by logic alone, it may sound like folly. Yet to those who have looked deeply into the nature of existence, it is a statement of profound truth. For dreams, those secret visions that rise unbidden in the dark, are not mere fantasies of the sleeping brain — they are real phenomena of the human condition, as tangible to the soul as gravity is to the earth.

The origin of this saying lies in Hitchcock’s lifelong dance between art and understanding. A troubadour of imagination, he has often blended science and surrealism in his music, seeking the place where logic meets mystery. In uttering this line, he reminds us that the dream is not some fragile illusion; it is part of the architecture of life itself. Modern science has confirmed what the ancients intuited — that dreams are born in the deepest currents of the mind, in that sacred space where emotion, memory, and desire intertwine. They are, as Hitchcock says, a scientific fact, for every living soul who sleeps will dream — and through those dreams, the universe speaks to itself in symbols.

Yet beyond science, there is wisdom. The ancients revered dreams as messages from the gods. The Egyptians believed that in sleep the soul walked the corridors of eternity. The Greeks turned to Asclepius, god of healing, seeking visions that might reveal the cure for body and spirit. Even in the Scriptures, Joseph and Daniel rose to greatness through the interpretation of dreams. Long before laboratories measured brain waves, humanity knew that dreams were not illusions — they were the bridge between what is known and what is possible. They are the language of the unconscious, the quiet whisper of the infinite within us.

To say that dreams are a scientific fact is to unite these two worlds — the spiritual and the rational — into one harmony. It is to recognize that imagination is not opposed to reason, but is its hidden twin. The dream is the experiment of the soul; the scientific method is the dream of the mind. Both seek understanding. Both explore mystery. Both are acts of faith in the unseen. When Hitchcock speaks, he is reminding us that we are not machines of flesh, but living laboratories of wonder — beings who are both observers and creators of reality.

Consider the story of Albert Einstein, whose theory of relativity reshaped the cosmos. It is said that his inspiration came not through formula but through vision — a dream in which he rode upon a beam of light, feeling the universe bend around him. From that dream was born one of the greatest discoveries of modern science. So too did Niels Bohr, father of quantum theory, dream of electrons orbiting the nucleus as planets orbit the sun. Their visions were not nonsense; they were prophecy. They proved that dreams, when nurtured by reason and courage, become facts.

In the quiet chambers of sleep, each of us glimpses the laboratory of the divine. We see, feel, and create worlds that never were — yet somehow are. The artist, the scientist, the poet, and the mystic are all travelers of this hidden realm. Those who awaken with reverence for their dreams often find that the ideas born in night’s silence carry the power to transform the waking world. To deny one’s dreams, therefore, is to deny half of one’s intelligence. To embrace them is to unite intuition and intellect, the heart and the mind.

The lesson, my children of both wonder and wisdom, is this: do not dismiss your dreams as fantasy. Study them, as scientists study the stars. Record them, reflect upon them, for they reveal the currents of your soul. Your dreams may not always foretell the future, but they always reveal the truth of the present — your fears, your hopes, your hidden strength. They are both mirror and map. Honor them as you would honor the teachings of a sage, for they are messages from your own eternal self.

Thus, when Robyn Hitchcock says that “dreams are a scientific fact,” he reminds us that imagination is not madness but revelation. The dream is proof that mystery lives within the measurable, that poetry breathes even in the realm of physics. So live not as one divided between logic and longing — live as one who understands that both are sacred. Dream deeply. Reason clearly. Let both guide you, for together they reveal the truth that science and spirit have always whispered in unison: that the dreamer is not separate from the universe, but its conscious expression.