Romantic Fantasies: The Hidden Trials of the Spiritual Path

Sometimes, Allah chooses to call certain people back to Him through romantic experiences that catalyze deeper understanding and transformation.

Many of you come to me with very real experiences of pain—pain that arises from the disillusionment of a connection you felt deeply invested in and drawn to, only to later realize that it was largely an illusion, not something truly viable in reality or even good for you.

There is a remarkable capacity that Allah has created within us as human beings which, when left untrained, can become a source of our downfall—such as when we engage in fantasies that pull us away from our purpose—but when used consciously, becomes a bridge between the spiritual and material worlds we inhabit. This is the faculty of imagination (khayal).

It is through our imagination that we engage in daydreaming and create scenarios that are not occurring in real time. Yet this same faculty, when refined, allows us to access the realm of the malakut (عَالَم الْمَلَكُوت), which can be encountered through inner purification (tazkiyah al-nafs), meditation, and spiritual practice.

Sufis seek to experience this realm in order to receive Divine light, sincerity, and love.

Most recently, I received a more specific question:

How do I remain hopeful in a balanced way without becoming delusionally positive, or falling into fear and expecting the worst?

I appreciate how this question centres on what Allah consistently calls us toward: balance.

This question was asked in the context of an experience where hope for marriage with a particular person was sustained for a long time, despite the absence of any real movement. It was also tied to the person’s growing concern about getting older and feeling that Allah has not yet granted them marriage, despite their continued hope.

They described their hope as being against all odds.

There is a fine line between hope against all odds and delusional hope. The difference isn’t how strongly you feel—it’s what your hope is anchored to.

True hope remains connected to reality, even when things are uncertain.

Delusional hope, however, asks us to ignore what is clearly being shown, and to continue investing in what is not truly available.

Have you ever had so much hope about something, you pray for it, but it doesn't end up happening?

This is where I gently ask those of you reading this to pay close attention to the following:

When we pray for something, we ask according to our current level of awareness, while Allah responds in accordance with our highest good.

This is a reality we often struggle to comprehend, because we are not yet holding that same perspective for ourselves.

For example, praying for marriage is, of course, something good.

However, more often than not—especially for those who have had a challenging upbringing—the unconscious hope behind that prayer may be to bypass pain and the wounds we are carrying.

This is not without reason. When we carry unhealed wounds, the heart quietly longs for relief, often hoping that love will bring the safety and healing it has not yet found within itself.

This kind of hope, however, is not entirely realistic. We are all shaped by our past experiences, and if we did not witness a healthy and balanced form of love in our families of origin, it is only natural that we may not fully understand how to embody it either.

This can leave people feeling confused about how to navigate situations in which they feel intensely drawn to another person.

I have also seen how many people in the community are married, and yet find themselves tested by feeling attracted to someone else. Because they have not developed the skills needed to navigate such illusions, they may end up engaging in fantasy with the person they are drawn to—someone who is not their spouse.

In some cases, this leads to creating a false persona, such as pretending not to be married or deceiving the other person, simply to experience a temporary escape from what Allah is asking them to confront within themselves.

In many ways, this becomes a calling from Allah—inviting us to learn how to move toward a more mature understanding of where to place our hope.

The deeper issue in these experiences is that they are often navigated primarily—sometimes entirely—from an emotional place. Yet a balanced human being moves through the world by engaging both faculties that Allah has given us: the emotional and the rational.

When one is used without the other, especially when emotion overrides discernment, it becomes much easier to mistake intensity for truth, and longing for alignment.

Expecting the worst

On the other end of the spectrum, we may have learned to respond to experiences by expecting the worst. Instead of holding onto hope, we might begin to anticipate disappointment, rejection, or abandonment before anything has even unfolded.

Just like idealized fantasy, this too is shaped by past experiences. The heart learns to protect itself by assuming that things will not work out. In this way, expecting the worst can feel like a form of safety—but it is still a distortion of reality.

Just as hope can become detached from truth when it turns into fantasy, fear can become detached from truth when it turns into constant anticipation of loss.

The path of balance is not found in leaning toward fantasy or fear, but in learning to see clearly—responding to what is actually present, rather than what we imagine or anticipate.

In order to become among those described in the Quran as Ummah Wasatan (a balanced and upright community), we must begin to teach ourselves a different way of seeing: to assess how much of our perception is truly rooted in reality and truth, rather than in fear or past conditioning.

In many cases, the intensity of romantic fantasies reflects not the reality of the connection, but the inner state of the one experiencing them.

When life feels flat, directionless, or lacking in meaning, the heart begins to search for something that restores a sense of aliveness.

Romantic fantasy can then appear as a powerful escape—something that fills the inner emptiness, even if only temporarily.

Yet this escape comes at a cost. It diverts attention away from the deeper work that is being called for: to sit with oneself, to face what feels empty or unfulfilled, and to begin moving towards finding our life's purpose.

Many men and women have been taught that their entire life purpose is to become a wife or husband and to have children. As a result, when these milestones do not arrive within the timeframe set by society, people can begin to feel lost.

Some even feel this sense of loss within marriage itself—the very ideal they believed would fulfill them.

This, in itself, can be a sign that Allah is calling us to seek something deeper and more truly fulfilling.

These experiences carry immense mercy from Allah, allowing us to recognize the blind spots within us—those that prevent us from aligning our desires with the highest good He is always guiding us toward.

The truth is: hope itself is not the problem.

Hope becomes painful when it is placed in something that is not truly available or beneficial for us. Oftentimes, when someone gives you small moments—attention, warmth, possibility—it can feel as though something is growing. But if those moments are not followed by clear, consistent action, the heart begins to do something on its own:

It fills in the gaps.
It builds a story.
It creates a relationship where there are only fragments.

And slowly, hope detaches from reality and attaches itself to imagination.

Many people may call this a “twin flame,” a “soulmate,” or use other terms to describe a strong, almost uncontrollable pull toward a person and the idea of being with them. In these cases, the other person is often perceived in a highly idealized way, and the heart becomes increasingly disconnected from reality.

This is why these types of connections often result in profound heartbreak.
It is quiet. Private. Often invisible to others.

Both in Islamic understanding and in psychological insight, there appears to be a strong correlation between these intense attachments and a lack of deeper grounding or purpose in one’s life.

This is not an uncommon experience, nor is it a sign of foolishness.
It is a sign of a heart that knows how to feel deeply—but has not yet learned where to place that depth, or how to choose reality over fantasy.

Often, beneath the fantasy, there is something deeper: a wound, a belief, a longing—a part of the self that feels unseen, unchosen, or unworthy unless it is finally “picked.”

In Islam, marriage is not meant to be a source of inner turmoil. It is meant to bring sakinah—tranquility.

Quran 30:21

وَمِنْ ءَايَـٰتِهِۦٓ أَنْ خَلَقَ لَكُم مِّنْ أَنفُسِكُمْ أَزْوَٰجًۭا لِّتَسْكُنُوٓا۟ إِلَيْهَا وَجَعَلَ بَيْنَكُم مَّوَدَّةًۭ وَرَحْمَةً ۚ إِنَّ فِى ذَٰلِكَ لَـَٔايَـٰتٍۢ لِّقَوْمٍۢ يَتَفَكَّرُونَ ٢١

And one of His signs is that He created for you spouses from among yourselves so that you may find tranquility in them. And He has placed between you compassion and mercy. Surely in this are signs for people who reflect.

Yet, most people today do not enter marriage by asking whether the person they are choosing is truly capable of bringing tranquility into the relationship.

In reality, many are not even able to cultivate tranquility within themselves—let alone offer it in a marriage. This is because most of us, by default, live in states on delusions and illusions that arise from our wounded selves.

Until we consciously learn to choose tranquility in our daily lives, we will not be able to embody it—neither within ourselves nor within a marriage.

When the heart is attached to illusion, it cannot fully receive what is true.

The solution

The solution is not to stop hoping.
And it is not to expect the worst.

The solution is to learn where to place our hope.

Hope becomes painful when it is rooted in what is unavailable or unclear. But when it is grounded in truth, it becomes a source of strength. The spiritual path does not ask you to close your heart—it asks you to refine it.

Balanced hope means remaining open while staying anchored in reality. It means paying attention to what is actually present—not what could be. It means allowing actions, consistency, and clarity to guide you, rather than intensity or imagination.

The invitation from Allah is not only in finding the right person, but in becoming someone who is rooted, aware, and aligned—someone who no longer needs fantasy to feel whole.

When we walk the path of tazkiyah al-nafs, our perception changes. What once felt like love may reveal itself as longing or projection.

So if something did not materialize, we do not see it as a loss. We see it as an unveiling—a moment in which Allah showed us where our hope was placed.

And in that, there is mercy. An opportunity to move you closer to what is Real—and closer to Him.