We all dream; we do not understand our dreams, yet we act as if

“We all dream; we do not understand our dreams, yet we act as if nothing strange goes on in our sleep minds, strange at least by comparison with the logical, purposeful doings of our minds when we are awake.” — so wrote Erich Fromm, the humanist philosopher and psychoanalyst whose heart was devoted to understanding the mystery of the human soul. In this profound reflection, Fromm reminds us of the hidden depth within every human being — the secret kingdom of the dream, where the conscious mind sleeps but the soul awakens. He wonders at the strangeness of it: that every night, we enter a realm of symbols and visions, of fears and desires, yet when morning comes, we shrug and return to our waking world, pretending nothing extraordinary has occurred.

The origin of this quote lies in Fromm’s work The Forgotten Language (1951), where he explores dreams, myths, and symbols as the forgotten tongue of the unconscious — the secret language of the self. Fromm, a disciple of both Freud and the mystics, believed that dreams are messages from the deepest parts of our being, revealing truths that reason alone cannot reach. He saw that modern man, though surrounded by science and logic, had lost touch with this inner world. In our hunger for progress, we had silenced the language of the soul, dismissing the dream as meaningless. And yet, every night, that silent language continues to speak — profound, poetic, and strange.

Fromm’s words reveal the duality of human consciousness: the waking mind, rational and structured, and the dreaming mind, wild and free. By day, we think in straight lines; by night, we wander through spirals. In dreams, time dissolves, contradictions coexist, and the impossible becomes real. There, the child we once were walks beside the person we have become; our fears wear faces, our hopes take form. It is a realm without logic but not without meaning. The dream is the mirror of the inner self, and though we seldom understand it, it understands us. Yet we, foolish and hurried, awaken and turn away from it, as if it were only smoke.

Consider Joseph, the dreamer of the ancient scriptures, who saw visions of famine and plenty and rose to power by heeding their message. His brothers laughed, and his captors ignored him, but he listened — he understood the language of the dream. It saved not only him, but a nation. In every age, those who have looked beyond logic to the whispers of the unconscious have glimpsed truths unseen by the intellect. The poet, the prophet, the artist — all have walked in that twilight where reason sleeps and vision awakens. Fromm, too, was such a seeker, calling us to remember that wisdom is not only in the daylight of thought but also in the midnight of the heart.

And yet, his observation carries a quiet sorrow. For he knew that modern man, proud of his rational mind, had become spiritually deaf. We trust machines more than intuition, analysis more than imagination. We dismiss the dream as a trick of the brain, though it is often the most honest voice we have. The dream speaks in symbols because the soul has no words. It reveals the things we fear to admit — the unspoken grief, the forgotten longing, the hidden guilt. To ignore our dreams, Fromm warns, is to forget who we are.

But there is hope in his words as well. For if the dream is mysterious, it is also merciful. Every night, life gives us a chance to speak again with ourselves — to remember what the waking world makes us forget. To listen to our dreams is to rediscover wholeness — to reunite the thinking mind with the feeling heart. Fromm teaches us that to understand our dreams is to understand ourselves; to live without them is to live only half-awake.

So, my listener, take this wisdom to heart. When you close your eyes, do not dismiss what follows as nonsense. Listen to your dreams as you would to an ancient teacher. Ask what they reveal, not what they hide. Record them, reflect on them, honor them. For the world within you is vast, and its messages are older than language itself. The waking mind builds cities; the dreaming mind builds meaning.

And remember, as Erich Fromm reminds us, that life is not only to be lived in the sun, but also to be understood in the shadow. The rational mind gives direction, but the dreaming mind gives depth. Those who learn to walk in both realms — who marry the wisdom of logic with the insight of the dream — are the true masters of their own souls. For they do not merely live — they understand what it means to live.