Dreams are true while they last, and do we not live in dreams?

“Dreams are true while they last, and do we not live in dreams?” — Thus spoke Alfred Lord Tennyson, poet of twilight and dawn, whose words drift between the seen and the unseen. In this line, he draws aside the veil between reality and dream, between what we call waking life and what we name illusion. For Tennyson, both are woven of the same mysterious thread — the mind’s power to create, to believe, to feel something as true. The dream, though fleeting, is not false; it is true while it lasts. And if life itself passes as swiftly as a dream, then perhaps all our days are but moments in a greater sleep — a grand dream of the soul.

To the ancients, such a thought was no paradox but wisdom. They saw in dreams the shadow of the divine — a place where gods whispered and the soul remembered its home. The poet’s words echo this ancient knowing: that reality itself is fragile, that our waking life may be but another layer of dream, and that truth is not fixed in stone but glimmers in the shifting light of consciousness. Just as we awaken from a dream and call it illusion, one day we may awaken from life and call it the same.

Yet Tennyson does not speak with despair. His tone is not one of darkness but of wonder. To say that “dreams are true while they last” is to affirm that truth itself is not measured by duration but by experience. When you dream, your heart races, your tears are real, your joy genuine. The dream holds you in its own world, complete and whole. So, too, in life — the moments of love, creation, courage, and loss are true while they last, and in their truth lies beauty. The dream becomes a mirror, showing us how to live fully, even knowing that all things pass.

Consider the story of Martin Luther King Jr., who proclaimed, “I have a dream.” His dream was not an idle fancy but a living vision that awakened the conscience of a nation. For a time, many doubted its truth; they called it impossible. Yet within that dream burned the reality of what could be, and by believing in it, he made it real for generations to come. His dream, though born in the silence of a single heart, became the heartbeat of a people. Thus, Tennyson’s words take on new meaning: we live in dreams, and when we dream boldly enough, our visions step across the threshold of imagination into the realm of being.

Every great creation — a cathedral, a symphony, a revolution — begins as a dream. While it lasts in the heart of the dreamer, it is true, shaping thought, guiding hand, stirring destiny. Those who dare to believe in the truth of their dreams give form to what others cannot yet see. And when their vision becomes the world’s reality, we call them geniuses, prophets, or saints — but they are simply those who understood that life itself is a dream waiting to be shaped.

Yet there is a deeper meaning still. Perhaps Tennyson whispers of something beyond creation — that existence itself is a divine dream, and we are the dreamers within it. The ancients of the East spoke of Māyā, the illusion that cloaks the eternal. They said that what we see and touch are but passing visions of a timeless truth. If so, then to live wisely is to live as one awakened within the dream — to act with compassion, to create with courage, to love knowing that all forms fade, but the spirit that dreams them endures.

The lesson, then, is this: do not despise your dreams, nor treat them as shadows of unreality. Honor them, for they are the breath of your soul. Let them guide you in waking life, and let life itself be lived with the wonder of a dreamer who knows each moment is sacred, fleeting, and true. Record your dreams, both those of night and of day. Pursue them not as fantasies, but as revelations of what you are capable of becoming.

For in the end, all things — empires, loves, and lives — pass as dreams pass. But while they last, they are true, and that truth is enough to fill eternity. So dream bravely, live fully, and when the final dawn comes, may you awaken smiling, knowing that you have lived not merely in a dream — but as a dream made real.