Desire and Dream in Literature: Two Essential Lenses for Writers and Teachers

Desire: The Engine of Character and Conflict

When as writers, we pick up a novel, a memoir, an epic fantasy, or a book of poems, we’re not reading merely for pleasure. We’re reading to learn how to write the books we love to read. We are learning how to show our ambitions, anxieties, and imaginations on pages that we'll visit again and again.

Two powerful ideas shape almost all our storytelling: desire and dream. These ideas seem abstract, yet literature is animated by every desire and dream underlining experience.

As the backbone of narrative, desire is the pulse of a story. When we read, we are carried along by a character's longing. For example, in the well-studied books below, we hold on to:

• Emma Bovary’s hunger for romance and status (Madame Bovary, 1857, Gustave Flaubert)

• Jay Gatsby’s idealized vision of success (The Great Gatsby, 1925, F. Scott Fitzgerald)

• Crisostomo Ibarra's longing for national freedom (Noli Me Tangere, 1887, El Filibusterismo, 1891, Jose Rizal)

• Harry Potter’s desire for family and belonging (Harry Potter Novel Series, 1997-2007, J. K. Rowling)

As we study a narrative with dream and desire as lenses and understand characters more deeply, we also catch the author's world view. We see that Flaubert critiques bourgeois moral ambition in mid-19th century France; Fitzgerald documents economic decadence in 1920s America; Rizal questions nationalist strategies under Spanish rule in the late 19th century Philippines; and Rowling explores humanism versus oppressive systems in a fantasy setting. In these novels, desire is never neutral. Class, gender, culture, and history influence what people are allowed to want or fear.

In our writing projects, our intentions are clearer when we ask: What does our character desire most? Why do they want it? What internal or external forces resist that desire? Desire will animate the plot, fuel tension, and create stakes.

Dream: The Imagination of What Could Be

If desire points to what is missing, dream points to what is possible. Dreams in books can be symbolic or literal. In The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka, Gregor Samsa turns into a bug. This change shows how useless he feels in the world. Kafka imagines a place that does not care for human life. In One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, the long span of one hundred years stands for loss, loneliness, and the dream of a whole past that makes sense.

Dreams act as comments on culture, belief, and ideas. The American Dream is questioned in many of John Steinbeck’s novels. In The Pearl, the poor never reach wealth or peace. The chase for this dream ends in pain and death. In East of Eden, the hunger for money and success also leads to ruin.

In postcolonial novels like Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe and Midnight’s Children by Salman Rushdie, dreams of nation and freedom stand against empire and rule. These books question power and oppression under colonial control. In contemporary novels like The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins and Purple Hibiscus by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, dreams echo through fear set against courage and control set against freedom. Young people resist what binds them and claim agency in their own time.

When we shape dream in our work, we ask these questions: How do the characters see their future? Which dreams do they honor? Which dreams do they let go? How do we build a world with our vision on the page?

Do we show the space between lived life and hoped for change? Dream in stories lives in tension. Each dream tests a better or worse future and helps form a local view that speaks to a wider world.

Desire and Dream Ground Storytelling

When we read as writers, we note the author’s style, voice, and craft. Writing becomes more challenging when we design desire and dream in getting our meaning across.

As we imagine a world on the page, desire and dream collide in our personal beliefs and biases, family history, and individual longing. As writers, we sharpen the narrative if we’re intentional. We work at the heart of the story, the social forces at work, the aims behind the conflict, and the symbols that reflect belief and ideas.

Our books can discuss, teach, mentor, and echo ethics and agency. The writing prompts below prime this desire:

Reflection Prompts for Writers

• What desire drives your character or narrator?
• Is this desire shaped by culture, family, history, or power?
• What dream frames the world of your story?
• Are you writing toward proof, witness, healing, identity, or change?

Discussion Prompts for Teachers of Literature

• Ask students to name character desire beyond clear or surface goals.
• Guide them to see the dream, national, personal, or ideological, that shapes the text’s view of the world.
• Encourage students to link a desire or dream to their own time, place, or lived experience.
• Probe both critical thought and personal belief, grounded in experience and sound texts.

The next time we read as writers or teachers of the books we love, let us ask what desire drives the story and what dream shapes its arc. The answers may not only shed light on the text, but also energize our writing and affirm the value of teaching literature.