When We Stop Dreaming, We Stop Creating
A few years ago, I was collaborating with a team on a project that had all the right elements for success: clear objectives, committed professionals, and a well-organized structure. On paper, everything seemed to be running smoothly. The project was advancing, meetings were efficient, and deadlines were being met. And yet, there was something about the overall atmosphere that felt muted - like the emotional pulse of the work had quietly faded.
As an external partner, I didn’t want to jump to conclusions. I wasn’t part of the team’s daily dynamic, and I knew that my role gave me only a partial view of what was happening beneath the surface. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that the energy in the room had shifted into something less alive. There were no sparks during discussions, no visible excitement about new ideas, no sense of ownership that usually breathes life into even the most routine tasks. The conversations were polite and professional, but they lacked that sense of curiosity and creative tension that often drives meaningful collaboration.
Still unsure of whether I was imagining things, I decided to open up a conversation in a more informal moment. After one of our working sessions, I asked a team member, casually but intentionally, “If you had complete freedom, what would you love to create from this project?” I expected at least a smile, a playful idea, or a moment of reflection. But her response was quiet and honest: “I don’t really think like that anymore. I just try to get through what’s on the table.”
That response stayed with me long after the project ended.
Not because I judged them, but because I understood. I’ve seen how environments - even well-intentioned ones - can slowly suppress the imaginative part of people. It doesn’t happen dramatically or all at once. Instead, it’s a gradual dimming. A culture of efficiency begins to replace a culture of possibility. The priority becomes execution over exploration. People stop offering bold ideas, not because they have nothing to say, but because they’ve grown used to those ideas going unheard, unsupported, or brushed aside by the pressure of deadlines and rigid structures.
That moment was a turning point for me - not only in understanding the team I was supporting, but also in how I approached leadership and collaboration moving forward. It became clear to me that people don’t stop dreaming at work because they run out of creativity. They stop dreaming when the systems they work in no longer welcome that part of them. When meetings leave no room for imagination, when every idea is measured before it's explored, and when no one asks, “What do you wish we could do differently?” - dreaming slowly disappears from the everyday.
And when we stop dreaming, we inevitably stop creating. The loss is not just about innovation or new ideas; it’s about losing the emotional connection people feel to their work. Without dreaming, teams become compliant rather than inspired. Work becomes a routine rather than a pursuit of something meaningful.
This experience taught me to pay closer attention to silence - not the good kind that signals focus, but the kind that suggests disengagement. It taught me to notice when people stop challenging things, when they stop asking questions, when the language of excitement disappears from everyday conversations. Those are the moments when leadership matters most - not to push harder for results, but to pause and ask what’s missing.
Since then, I’ve tried to be more intentional about creating space for dreaming - in the way I design conversations, the questions I ask, and the expectations I set. I’ve learned that performance and creativity are not opposing forces; they depend on each other. Teams that feel empowered to imagine also feel more responsible for outcomes. People who believe their ideas matter contribute with more energy and depth.
As leaders - whether we’re managing teams or influencing processes - we carry a responsibility to protect and encourage that space for dreaming. Not as a luxury, but as a necessity. Because when we allow people to imagine, to challenge, to reimagine - we don’t just get better ideas. We get more engaged people, stronger connections, and organizations that grow not only in scale, but in meaning.
And when we rediscover that a colleague has stopped dreaming - whether through silence, disinterest, or fatigue - that moment shouldn’t be a frustration. It should be a signal. A call to reexamine not just their mindset, but the environment we’ve created around them.
After all, creativity does not thrive in pressure alone. It thrives in trust, in space, and in the belief that what we build together can always be more than just what’s expected.
So let’s not wait until the silence becomes too loud. Let’s ask the questions that invite people back into the process - not just as executors, but as creators. Because workplaces that dream are workplaces that move forward. And leadership that encourages dreaming builds more than results - it builds resilience, purpose, and possibility.