Trust in dreams, for in them is hidden the gate to eternity.

In this radiant saying, Khalil Gibran, the poet of the soul, calls upon humankind to trust in dreams, for within their mysterious folds lies “the gate to eternity.” These words are not mere sentiment; they are a compass for the spirit. Gibran, born between the mountains of Lebanon and the vastness of exile, knew the language of longing. To him, dreams were not shadows of sleep, but messengers of the infinite — visions that bridge the mortal and the divine. To trust in dreams is to believe that the unseen world whispers to us through symbols, urging us toward the life we are meant to create.

Dreams have always been the secret scripture of the soul. In the quiet hours of night, when the noise of reason falls away, we are invited into the temple of imagination. There, the past, present, and future weave together in sacred patterns. The ancients listened to these visions not as idle fantasies but as revelations. The Egyptians saw dreams as the speech of gods; the Greeks built temples for incubation, where seekers slept upon sacred stones to receive divine counsel. Even the prophets of the Old Testament, from Joseph to Daniel, were dreamers — men who saw more with closed eyes than kings saw with open ones. For in dreams, truth wears the garments of wonder, and eternity touches the heart of man.

Consider the story of Martin Luther King Jr., whose immortal words — “I have a dream” — were not mere rhetoric, but prophecy. His vision was not confined to the years of his life, for it sprang from the timeless well of the human spirit. That dream was his gate to eternity, and through it, countless souls found courage and direction. His dream did not die with him; it continues to breathe in the hearts of generations. Thus, Gibran’s wisdom reveals itself: to dream deeply is to plant seeds in the soil of forever. The body may fall, but a dream rooted in truth lives on beyond the grave.

Yet, many fear their dreams. They call them illusions, distractions, or childish reveries. But it is only the fearful who mock what they cannot understand. For every great act, every revolution of art, thought, or spirit, began as a dream. The painter dreams before the canvas, the inventor before the machine, the lover before the meeting. What begins as vapor in the mind becomes the mountain of reality. To scorn dreams is to scorn the divine architect that sleeps within each of us. The gate to eternity does not open to those who cling only to what is seen; it opens to those who dare to believe in what could be.

There is, however, a sacred balance. Dreams alone are not enough; they must be trusted — which means pursued, tended, and brought into the light of action. The ancients taught that dreams were gifts from the gods, but the gods demanded labor in return. A dream without effort is a star reflected in still water — beautiful, but unreachable. To trust a dream is to follow it through darkness, through doubt, through the wilderness of becoming. It is to make faith your compass and endurance your flame.

And so, my child, learn this: your dreams are not foolish. They are maps of eternity written upon your heart. When you wake from one that stirs your spirit, do not dismiss it. Sit with it. Ask what truth it conceals, what future it invites. Let it guide your hand, your words, your choices. The world needs more dreamers who act, more believers who build. Every bridge, every symphony, every peace that endures began as a dream trusted enough to be born.

For in the end, when the final sleep claims us, we return to the realm of dreams — to that eternal gate from which we once came. Gibran’s voice, echoing through the ages, calls us to remember that the dream is not an escape from life, but its essence. Trust in dreams, then, for in their light shines the path home — the gate to eternity, waiting, patient and luminous, for the soul brave enough to walk through.