Judge of your natural character by what you do in your dreams.

“Judge of your natural character by what you do in your dreams.” Thus wrote Ralph Waldo Emerson, the sage of Concord, whose words shimmer like a mirror held up to the soul. In this brief yet profound declaration, Emerson reveals a hidden gate into the understanding of the self — that our dreams, those shadowed wanderings of the mind, unveil who we truly are when no mask can be worn and no law restrains us. In waking life, we are bound by society’s gaze, by the expectations of others, by our own rehearsed image of virtue. But in dreams, all pretense falls away, and the soul acts according to its natural character, free of the stage and the script. There, in the silent theater of the night, our true nature whispers its secret.

Emerson lived in an age of awakening — an era when men began to turn inward, seeking the divine not in temples of stone but within the temple of the mind. He believed that the human spirit was a fragment of the Infinite, that every person carried within them a spark of divinity. To him, dreams were not illusions, but revelations; they were the unguarded speech of the soul. When we sleep, the intellect — that proud sentinel of reason — lays down its arms. What remains is the pure instinct, the hidden truth of who we are beneath the robes of reason and respectability. To “judge your natural character,” then, is to look not at what you do before men, but what your spirit does before God — unseen, uncoached, and free.

Consider the example of Abraham Lincoln, a man of conscience whose life was marked by inner struggle. It is told that on the eve of his assassination, Lincoln dreamed of wandering through the White House and finding a shrouded body guarded by soldiers. When he asked whose body it was, they told him, “The President.” He awoke shaken — not merely because of what the dream foretold, but because of what it revealed: a man deeply aware of destiny and sacrifice. His dreams, like his deeds, were noble and somber reflections of his character — selfless, burdened with duty, and touched by the hand of fate. So too does Emerson’s wisdom teach us that even in dreams, the just and the compassionate remain so, while the cruel and deceitful cannot hide their nature.

Yet not all dreams are clear in meaning, nor all hearts easy to read. The wise do not interpret the dream as a prophecy of events, but as a mirror of moral truth. When the soul acts kindly in sleep — when it rescues, forgives, or creates beauty — it shows a nature aligned with goodness. When it deceives, destroys, or delights in cruelty, it reveals an inner discord that no waking virtue can disguise. The dream-world is the crucible where the mask of civility melts, and what remains is the pure metal of being. In that realm, we meet ourselves unarmed. What we do there, we are.

Emerson’s insight also invites us to live with integrity, to seek unity between our waking and dreaming selves. The goal of the wise person is not to live two lives — one outwardly righteous and inwardly false — but to harmonize them. The man who must lie to others begins by lying to himself. The woman who fears her own shadow in dreams has yet to make peace with her spirit. To live well is to live transparently, so that even in sleep, the soul rests in truth. When our inner and outer worlds are reconciled, the dream becomes not a battleground, but a garden where the heart finds rest.

It is no small task to confront the self that dwells in dreams. Many flee from that mirror, preferring the comfort of daylight’s illusions. But those who dare to observe their dreams — to write them, reflect upon them, and learn their lessons — walk the path of self-knowledge. They come to understand their fears, their desires, their hidden loves and secret griefs. And from that understanding, they grow stronger, purer, more awake even while they sleep. For the dreamer who listens becomes a seer, and the seer becomes a creator of his own destiny.

So let this be your teaching, O child of the inward light: Attend to your dreams, for they are the honest messengers of your soul. Do not dismiss them as shadows, for they are woven from the same fabric as your waking thoughts. Ask yourself what they reveal of your nature — whether you walk in compassion or cruelty, in truth or in deceit. And as you awaken each morning, carry from your dreams the lessons they have sown. For when a person’s heart is pure, his dreams will be luminous; and when his dreams are luminous, so too will be his life. Thus, as Emerson teaches, judge of your natural character by what you do in your dreams — for there, beneath the veil of sleep, you meet not the world, but yourself.