The Arts of Dream Begin with Children’s Dreams

 
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The Arts of Dream Begin with Children’s Dreams

Kim Kibun, actor and arts educator

06-04-2025

Students improvise to act out a textbook play being read aloud.

Government programs don’t usually have poetic names. A noteworthy exception is South Korea’s “Arts of Dream,” a nationwide initiative to make intensive, inclusive performing arts education available to children and youth across the country. 

The first phase of this initiative was the “Orchestra of Dreams,” launched in 2011 and inspired by Venezuela’s El Sistema program. A “Dance of Dreams” initiative followed in 2022. Now, the “Theater of Dreams” has joined the “Arts of Dream” family. After a pilot phase in 2024, the program is launching, with the full energy of spring, in 12 hub institutions across the country.

In both Korean and English, the word dream carries layered meanings. It can refer, first, to the images and sensations we experience during sleep; second, to the hopes and ideals we wish to realize; and third, to a fleeting illusion or unrealistic fantasy.

When I was designing the framework for the Theater of Dreams last year, I leaned into the second meaning—the kind of dream filled with high ideals. I imagined a space where children’s creativity could truly bloom: a rehearsal room filled with sunlight spilling through large windows, with perfect acoustics and lighting to match. I hoped for high-quality video content to capture and share the children’s journeys. Above all, I dreamed of seasoned artists—not just instructors, but true companions—who would inspire transformation rather than merely deliver lessons.

Student actors explore Shakespeare’s play The Tempest.

With the theme “We Are All Travelers,” a pilot phase of three programs took shape. The first season was “Creating a Theater Piece from Shakespeare’s The Tempest,” in which children and young people aged 8–25 used improvisation to collaboratively explore scenes from the play. For example, they reimagined the character Prospero (who, in the play’s last scene, relinquishes his magical powers and expresses forgiveness) as versions of themselves, i.e. “letting go of resentments, forgiving everyone, and heading to an internet cafe together.” The plan was to develop the creative outcomes into a public showcase performance.

The second season was “Rehearse Together, Dream Together,” in which high school theater clubs were supported in developing their own productions through shared rehearsal and creative exchange. Scenes were co-rehearsed with professional actors and presented in a final performance.

The third season, “Read Together, Dream Together,” took plays that are often locked inside textbooks and confined to exam preparation and brought them to life through imaginative script readings. In the culminating impromptu staged reading, participants adding their own ideas through dialogue and discussion. 

In our final reflection session, a single comment from one child gave me an unexpected insight into this work: “To me, the Theater of Dreams is a dream I want to have every single day. Even if I dreamed it yesterday, I want to dream it again today, and again tomorrow. It’s so sweet, I can’t wait to fall asleep.”

I realized then that the dream I had imagined is not the same as the dream these children carry. I had been holding on to an adult’s idea of an ideal model, perhaps investing too much structure, too much pressure to achieve something impressive. But when I let go of all that extra weight, I found myself falling closer into their kind of dream.

A dream doesn’t have to be exceptional. It can be like a gentle pause at the end of a long day. A place to rest, recharge, and return to, again and again. A dream that doesn’t clamor for attention but waits quietly in the background. Maybe that kind of humble, constant dream is what leads to learning and growth.

Students rehearse and create a play together.

So perhaps it’s time to embrace that third meaning of dream, the one that allows space for illusion. What if the Theater of Dreams became a space not only for polished ideas, but also for the overlooked ideas, the improbable dreams, the beautiful impossibilities? It could become a laboratory for anything and everything that can be imagined—constantly shifting, growing, and transforming into something new.

In Eastern philosophy, the world moves through the balance of opposites, yin and yang. These opposing forces must coexist for true harmony to emerge; without one, the other loses meaning. In theater, and all performing arts, opposing forces coexist to create harmony; the actor onstage versus the crew behind the scenes; the expressing self versus the waiting self; the performing body versus the observing eyes. In the Theater of Dreams, it is in the unseen, waiting yin, rather than the visible, expressive yang, that transformation truly begins. It’s not just about the dazzling onstage moments; it’s about what happens in rehearsals and behind the scenes: fixing props, handling backdrops, learning cues, waiting for entrances. It’s about learning to watch others with sincerity and listen with humility.

This principle applies just as powerfully in music education. Soloists and ensembles, conductors and instrumentalists, leaders and followers—all participate in a dynamic dance of support and contrast. Even within a musical score, the yin and yang of strength and softness, speed and stillness, must coexist.

This is the process through which participants in the Arts of Dream programs grow. They evolve from students to creators, from passive recipients to active decision-makers. Their perspective expands—from seeing only the moment to understanding the whole journey, and from focusing solely on what lies ahead to embracing what’s beside and behind them as well.

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