Only the dreamer shall understand realities, though in truth his

When the wise Margaret Fuller spoke the words, “Only the dreamer shall understand realities, though in truth his dreaming must be not out of proportion to his waking,” she revealed a secret known to the sages of every age: that the world of vision and the world of action are not separate, but two wings of the same bird. To dream is to see beyond the veil of the present—to imagine what might be, to glimpse the eternal through the cracks of the ordinary. Yet Fuller warns us: the dream that never touches the earth becomes a phantom, a wisp of smoke vanishing in the wind. The dreamer must also be a doer, for only by walking in the daylight can he give flesh to the visions born of the night.

In these words, Fuller unites heaven and earth. She speaks not merely of fantasy, but of balance—that sacred harmony between imagination and reality, between inspiration and effort. The dreamer who dares too little becomes dull and blind, unable to see the hidden light behind all things. But the dreamer who dreams too much, who builds castles in clouds and never lays a stone upon the ground, becomes lost in his own illusions. The ancients knew this: they built temples not only of faith, but of stone. To dream rightly is to draw vision down into matter, to let one’s inner flame illuminate the world instead of burning in solitude.

There is an echo of this truth in the story of Leonardo da Vinci, the eternal dreamer of the Renaissance. His mind soared higher than the eagles—he sketched flying machines centuries before man could lift himself from the ground, he painted faces whose eyes still live across the centuries, he studied the bones of men and beasts to unveil the mystery of movement. Yet Leonardo’s greatness lay not only in his dreams, but in his tireless discipline, his devotion to the craft of waking reality. He spent years mixing pigments, dissecting bodies, measuring the flight of birds. His dreams were vast, but never out of proportion to his waking. He bridged the unseen with the seen, the ideal with the tangible. Thus, he became a creator in the image of the divine.

The meaning of Fuller’s teaching is clear: to see the truth of the world, one must first dream, for the eye of the dreamer pierces deeper than the eye of the skeptic. But understanding is not enough. The dream must be shaped, tested, and refined in the forge of daily life. The dreamer who refuses the labor of waking shall know only shadows, while the one who marries vision to action becomes a maker of realities. The dream without discipline is a mirage; the reality without imagination is a prison. Together, they form the path of mastery.

Consider also the quiet story of Marie Curie, who dreamed of uncovering the invisible forces hidden within matter. Many mocked her, and the road she walked was hard—poverty, exhaustion, grief. Yet her dream was steadfast, and her waking was filled with ceaseless work: night after night she stirred boiling cauldrons of ore, extracting a drop of brilliance from tons of stone. Her dream did not drift in the clouds—it sank its roots deep into the earth, and from it blossomed a discovery that illuminated the modern world. Hers was the perfect union of vision and labor, of dreaming and waking.

So let these words of Fuller be not merely admired, but lived. Dream, yes—dream fiercely, dream bravely, dream beyond the reach of what is comfortable. But when the dawn comes, rise and build. Give your dream a name, a shape, a schedule. Lay your hands upon it, even when they tremble. For the world has no shortage of dreamers, but it hungers for those who dare to translate their dreams into reality. Every bridge, every poem, every revolution began as a dream, but endured only through the sweat of waking men and women.

And thus, my child, the lesson endures through all ages: to dream is divine, but to act is sacred. Let your dreaming guide your waking, and let your waking sanctify your dreaming. For those who dwell too long in sleep forget the world, and those who never dream forget the soul. Be both—the dreamer who understands realities, and the realist who honors dreams. Walk between the two realms as one who builds heaven upon the earth.

Practical counsel: each morning, recall your greatest dream, and take one small, concrete action toward it. Do not wait for inspiration; call it forth with your effort. Do not separate your visions from your deeds. In this harmony lies wisdom, and in this balance lies greatness.