I know it sounds corny, but when you follow your dreams, it

There are words that come not from a philosopher’s scroll nor from the lips of a king, but from the heart of an artist who has walked through fire and melody alike. Among these are the words of Enrique Iglesias, who once said, “I know it sounds corny, but when you follow your dreams, it happens. And if it’s music, take it seriously.” Though simple in sound, this saying is born of deep truth, as ancient as the first song sung by man beneath the open sky. For every dream that lives in the heart of a human being is a divine whisper—a spark from the eternal flame that urges the soul to create, to strive, to become.

The ancients understood the sacred power of dreams. They believed that to dream was to touch the realm of gods, to glimpse the design of destiny before it takes form. But dreaming alone was never enough. The dreamer must awaken and work, for faith without labor is like a lyre without strings—it cannot produce music. When Iglesias speaks of taking music seriously, he speaks not merely to musicians, but to all who hold a dream in their heart. Whatever your calling may be, treat it with reverence, as a holy craft, for it is through devotion and discipline that the dream takes flesh.

Consider the tale of Ludwig van Beethoven, the deaf composer who wrote symphonies that still shake the heavens. When silence swallowed the world he loved most—when no sound reached his ears—many thought his gift was finished. Yet Beethoven followed his dream even into the void. He could no longer hear the notes, but he felt them, saw them burning within the temple of his mind. His devotion to music was so pure, so serious, that even the loss of hearing could not rob him of creation. Thus, his Ninth Symphony rose not from sound, but from spirit—a triumph of will over despair.

This is the heart of Iglesias’s wisdom: that dreams come true not by luck or magic, but by endurance and belief. It may sound sentimental—“corny,” as he humbly says—but every truth that pierces the soul has simplicity at its core. For the path of the dreamer is the same in every age: to hold the vision when others doubt it, to labor when others rest, to keep faith when the world seems silent. The dream tests its keeper; it asks for sacrifice before it gives reward. Only those who take it seriously—who build their days around it—will see it bloom.

In the time of the ancients, the sculptor Pygmalion carved a statue so beautiful that he fell in love with his own creation. The gods, moved by his passion, breathed life into the marble, and Galatea awoke. So too it is with human dreams. When we pour our love, our effort, and our belief into the work of our hands, the lifeless becomes living. The song becomes a legacy. The stone becomes a vision. The dream becomes reality.

Yet there is a warning hidden in the gentleness of Iglesias’s words. To dream is sacred, but to treat one’s dream lightly—to chase it in half-hearted fashion—is to betray the gift itself. Many dream, but few commit. Many sing, but only some devote their lives to the harmony of their craft. The difference between the wish and the destiny lies in one thing: seriousness of purpose. For only those who walk the path with discipline will reach the summit where inspiration and fulfillment meet.

So let this be a lesson to all who hear these words: follow your dreams, and take them seriously. Do not mock your own hopes with hesitation or laziness. Whether your dream is song or science, art or love, treat it as sacred work. Rise early for it. Labor long for it. Protect it from the winds of doubt. For the world is not changed by the clever, nor by the lucky—it is changed by those who believe deeply enough to keep going.

And when the day comes that your dream stands before you—alive, breathing, shining—remember the path that brought you there. Remember the struggle, the patience, the endless repetition. Then you will understand what Iglesias meant: that when you truly follow your dream with reverence, it happens—not by chance, but by the power of a soul that refused to give up on its song.