I believe in everything until it's disproved. So I believe in

In this radiant and mystical reflection, John Lennon, the dreamer of a generation, speaks with the voice of a poet and the heart of a prophet: “I believe in everything until it's disproved. So I believe in fairies, the myths, dragons. It all exists, even if it's in your mind. Who's to say that dreams and nightmares aren't as real as the here and now?” These words carry not the reasoning of a philosopher, but the song of a soul that has seen both the beauty and the madness of existence. Lennon, who lived between fame and fragility, between music and meaning, invites us to reconsider the boundaries of reality itself. For him, the mind was not a cage but a cosmos — a place where the visible and the invisible, the real and the imagined, coexist in sacred balance.

The origin of this quote lies in Lennon’s lifelong search for truth through imagination. As one of the founding members of The Beatles, he helped reshape not only the sound of modern music, but the spirit of his time. Yet behind the fame, Lennon was a seeker — restless, curious, and often haunted by the contradictions of the world. He believed that the limits of reality were self-imposed, and that belief was a kind of magic, capable of summoning meaning where none seemed to exist. When he spoke of fairies, myths, and dragons, he was not escaping into childish fantasy; he was affirming the deep human need to see wonder in all things. To Lennon, the unseen was not false — it was simply unmeasured.

To believe, as Lennon did, “in everything until it’s disproved,” is to reclaim the innocence and power of the imagination. The modern mind, trained to dissect and doubt, often imprisons itself in facts while starving the soul of mystery. But the ancients knew — as poets, mystics, and sages have always known — that the unseen is as vital as the visible. They spoke of gods in thunder, of spirits in rivers, of omens in the flight of birds. To them, the world was alive. Lennon’s words are a bridge to that ancient wisdom — a reminder that reason without wonder becomes blindness, and that to deny the dream is to deny the deepest parts of ourselves.

Consider the story of Galileo Galilei, the astronomer who dared to believe that the Earth revolved around the Sun. In his time, such an idea was heresy, an affront to the accepted “truth.” Yet Galileo’s belief — first born in imagination, not proof — changed the course of history. He, too, believed “in everything until it was disproved.” The same spirit lives in every creator, every inventor, every artist who has dared to see a world that others could not. For all progress begins as dream, and all discovery begins as faith. Lennon’s fairies and dragons, then, are not merely myths — they are symbols of the courage to dream beyond the visible.

When Lennon asks, “Who’s to say that dreams and nightmares aren’t as real as the here and now?” he challenges the illusion that reality ends where waking life begins. For every dream carries truth — sometimes a truth too deep or strange for daylight to bear. The ancients believed that dreams were messages from gods; modern thinkers might call them reflections of the subconscious. But whether divine or psychological, they are part of the tapestry of our existence. A nightmare can reveal the fears we bury; a dream can whisper the path we must take. Lennon, ever the artist, knew that creation itself begins in dreams — that every song, every vision, every act of beauty is born first in the mind, before it finds its way into the world.

His quote also carries a quiet rebellion — a refusal to let skepticism extinguish the sacred. In a world obsessed with proof, Lennon dares to believe. He invites us to live as imaginers, not merely as observers. To believe in myths is not to reject reality, but to expand it — to allow the heart to dwell in mystery, where logic cannot tread. The scientist measures the stars; the dreamer gives them meaning. Both are needed, for without imagination, knowledge becomes sterile; without truth, imagination becomes hollow. Lennon’s wisdom lies in holding both — the seen and the unseen — in harmony.

So, my child, take this lesson to heart: do not let the world make your vision small. Believe in everything until it’s disproved. Believe in the power of dreams, in the truth of your own imagination, and in the sacredness of wonder. Let your reason be sharp, but let your heart remain open. When you walk through life, see not only what is, but what might be — for that is where creation begins.

For as John Lennon reminds us, the universe does not end at the edge of perception. There are worlds within you — vast, luminous, and waiting to be born. The fairies, myths, and dragons that live in your heart are not lies; they are the language of possibility. And one day, when you bring those inner visions into the light, you will find that they were never mere dreams at all — they were the seeds of reality, planted in the soil of the soul.