We all have our time machines. Some take us back, they're called

In the quiet spaces between what has been and what has yet to come, Jeremy Irons offered a truth that feels older than time itself: “We all have our time machines. Some take us back, they're called memories. Some take us forward, they're called dreams.” These words, gentle yet profound, remind us that though we are bound by the ticking clock, the spirit within us moves freely — backward through remembrance, and forward through imagination. In these two sacred forces — memory and dream — lies the essence of what it means to be human: to remember, to hope, to weave past and future into the fabric of the eternal now.

Memories are the roots of our being. They carry the scent of our childhood, the warmth of love lost and found, the taste of victory, and the ache of regret. They are the time machines that take us back, not to dwell, but to understand. Each recollection is a doorway, through which the soul travels to meet its former selves — to learn, to forgive, to cherish. The ancients said that memory is the mother of wisdom, for only by looking back can we know who we are. Like the historian who studies old empires, or the poet who lingers upon the ruins of yesterday, we revisit our past not to remain there, but to carry its lessons into the light of the present.

But dreams, ah, dreams — they are the wings that lift us beyond the known. If memory is the root, then dream is the blossom. The dream is our soul’s prophecy, whispering of what could be if only we dare to believe. It is the music of the future playing faintly in the distance, calling us to move forward. Every great change, every invention, every act of courage began first as a dream. The scientist who imagines, the artist who envisions, the leader who hopes — all are travelers of time, guided by dreams that transcend the limits of the moment.

Consider Leonardo da Vinci, who centuries before the age of flight drew sketches of flying machines. His dreams were his time machine — carrying him into centuries yet unborn. Though he never saw his inventions soar, the future did, because of the seed of imagination he planted. And so it has always been: those who dream walk not in the age they are born, but in the one they foresee. The builders of pyramids, the voyagers who crossed oceans, the dreamers who reached for the stars — all of them traveled through time long before they acted. Their dreams were bridges into tomorrow.

Yet, Jeremy Irons’ wisdom speaks also to balance. For memory and dream are two wings of the same bird; without one, the other cannot fly. To live only in memory is to drown in nostalgia, trapped in what once was. To live only in dreams is to drift away from the ground of reality, unanchored and lost. The wise know how to hold both — the past as foundation, the future as aspiration. The mind looks backward to gather wisdom, while the heart looks forward to find purpose. Between the two flows the present — the only place where life truly happens.

There is a quiet power in revisiting our memories not as prisoners, but as pilgrims. When we recall our joys, we are reminded that beauty is possible; when we recall our sorrows, we learn resilience. Likewise, when we dare to dream, we affirm that we are still alive — that hope, like fire, has not gone out. Memory keeps us humble; dream keeps us bold. Together, they make us whole.

So let this be your lesson, children of the ever-turning wheel of time: cherish your memories, but do not live in them; pursue your dreams, but do not lose yourself in their shadow. Each day, visit both your past and your future, and then return to the present — for that is where creation unfolds. Use your memories as guidance and your dreams as direction. Build upon what has been, and reach for what can be.

For though none of us possess the machines of metal that travel through time, every one of us carries within a greater power: the ability to remember and to imagine. And in these two gifts lies immortality. When your memories become wisdom and your dreams become deeds, then you, too, will transcend time — living not just in the years you are given, but in the legacy you leave behind.