I have dreamed in my life, dreams that have stayed with me ever

In the haunting and beautiful words of Emily Brontë, the reclusive genius of the moors, we find this eternal whisper of the soul: “I have dreamed in my life, dreams that have stayed with me ever after, and changed my ideas; they have gone through and through me, like wine through water, and altered the color of my mind.” These are not the idle musings of sleep, but the deep confessions of a spirit touched by the infinite. Brontë, whose inner world was vast and storm-tossed, spoke of dreams as forces that shape the very fabric of one’s being — not fleeting shadows, but currents that transform the soul.

To dream in the sense that Brontë describes is not merely to imagine; it is to commune with that mysterious realm where thought and feeling merge, where the unseen roots of creation grow. Her dreams were visions, not of fantasy, but of revelation. They were living waters, pouring through her consciousness, dissolving old forms of thought and coloring her world anew. When she writes that they “altered the color of my mind,” she reveals the power of imagination to change perception itself — to awaken a deeper awareness of life, beauty, and sorrow. For those who dream deeply, the world itself begins to wear new hues; nothing remains as it was.

This vision was born in solitude. Emily Brontë lived apart from the crowd, walking the wild moors of Yorkshire, listening to the wind as others listen to God. She poured her inner storms into poetry and into Wuthering Heights, that tempest of passion and spirit. It was through such dreaming that she transcended the narrow life allotted to her. Her imagination was her freedom, her rebellion against the dullness of convention. In those dreams, she encountered not escape, but truth — truth that remade her thoughts as wine transforms water, infusing the ordinary with divine fire. Thus, her words remind us that the imaginative life is not illusion, but illumination.

Consider the tale of Vincent van Gogh, another soul who dreamed with color and fury. His visions of fields and stars were not mere sights of the eye, but revelations of the heart. His dreams, too, altered the color of his mind — and of the world’s. The world once called him mad; yet through his dreaming, he saw beyond the gray walls of existence into a radiance that few dared to glimpse. His art, like Brontë’s writing, was born from inner transformation. It teaches us that to dream deeply is not to escape reality, but to enrich it, to make the unseen visible through courage and creation.

Dreams such as these are not soft things; they are powers. They demand surrender. When they enter the soul, they reshape it, often painfully. They strip away falsehood, awaken longing, and compel us to see what we once avoided. To dream as Brontë did is to be undone and remade — to let life itself flow more vividly through the veins of the spirit. Yet in that transformation lies the seed of greatness. Every act of creativity, every act of love, begins with such a dream, with the courage to let something divine pass through you and change you.

And so, the lesson of this quote is clear: cherish your dreams, for they are not idle clouds but sacred teachers. When a vision grips you, do not dismiss it as fancy; welcome it as you would a wise and demanding friend. Let it move through you. Let it test you. Let it color your thoughts until the world itself seems richer, deeper, more alive. For what you dream sincerely will one day become the foundation of what you live.

Therefore, dear seeker of truth, when next you find yourself visited by a dream — whether of love, of creation, of a life yet unlived — remember Emily Brontë’s words. Do not merely witness it; let it transform you. Allow it to run through your soul like wine through water, until the very color of your mind is changed. For in that alchemy of imagination, you will find not only beauty, but the awakening of your truest self — the one that lives not in shadow, but in vision.