I'm a big fan of dreams. Unfortunately, dreams are our first

In the words of Kevin Costner: "I'm a big fan of dreams. Unfortunately, dreams are our first casualty in life — people seem to give them up, quicker than anything, for a 'reality.'" This saying is both a lament and a warning. It speaks of the human spirit’s quiet surrender — the moment when the light of dreams dims beneath the heavy shadow of reality. It is not that reality kills dreams by force, but that people, wearied by time and burdened by fear, offer them up willingly. In Costner’s words echoes the ancient truth: that the greatest tragedy is not to die, but to live without the fire that once made us rise from sleep eager to shape the day.

In the days of old, men and women were not strangers to dreams. They saw in them divine whispers — messages from the gods, the muses, or the inner flame of the soul. To dream was to commune with destiny itself, to see beyond the veil of the present into what might yet be. But as the centuries rolled forward, humankind grew cautious. The heart, once brave enough to chase the unknown, learned to bow before the altar of practicality. “Be realistic,” they were told. And so they laid their dreams upon the altar, sacrificing them for safety, for approval, for comfort. Yet what they gained was smaller than what they lost.

Consider the tale of Leonardo da Vinci, who lived not only as a man but as a living dream. He dreamed of flight, centuries before any wing touched the sky. He dreamed of machines that would move by their own power, of paintings that would breathe, of worlds no one else could yet see. Had he surrendered his dreams to “reality,” the world might never have known the Mona Lisa’s mysterious smile or the daring sketches of the first flying machines. Leonardo’s life teaches us that reality is not a wall, but a clay that bends beneath the hands of those who dream fiercely enough.

Yet, we must also look to the countless souls whose dreams perished quietly. The poet who put away his pen because the world paid no heed to his words. The child who loved the stars, but became an accountant because it was “sensible.” These are not failures of ability — they are wounds of the spirit. For when one forsakes a dream, one does not simply abandon a goal; one abandons a part of the self — the part that dared to believe the impossible might one day be true. Dreams are the soul’s rebellion against the dull tyranny of the ordinary.

Kevin Costner’s lament, then, is not mere sentimentality; it is a call to courage. To hold onto a dream in a world that constantly demands realism is an act of quiet heroism. It is to walk through storms with the conviction that somewhere beyond them lies the sun. Reality has its place, yes, but it is meant to serve the dream, not destroy it. Every great creation — from the pyramids to the moon landing — began as a dream that someone refused to surrender, no matter how “unrealistic” it seemed.

So, dear listener, take this teaching into your heart: guard your dreams as you would guard sacred fire. Let others mock them if they must; let them call you foolish. The fools of today are the legends of tomorrow. The road of dreams is steep and lonely, but it leads to greatness — not always in fame or wealth, but in the quiet triumph of having lived truly.

If you would live wisely, then live boldly. Each dawn, remind yourself of what once made your heart quicken, and give it time, even a few stolen minutes a day. Write the poem. Paint the sky. Build the thing that only you can see. For in this pursuit, you will not merely exist — you will live as the ancients did: in harmony with the divine spark that dreams. And when your days draw to a close, you will not mourn what might have been, for you will have lived in faithful service to the greatest truth of all — that the world belongs not to the realists, but to the dreamers who refuse to wake.