Ann and Nancy Wilson Revive the Power of “These Dreams” in 2025

When Heart made their way back to Edmonton on March 21, 2025, the evening carried the air of a long-awaited reunion. Rogers Place filled with fans who had grown up with the Wilson sisters’ music, and “These Dreams” became the show’s centerpiece. Stripped of flash, the performance leaned into survival, memory, and a melody that still stood tall decades later. The Royal Flush Tour, resuming after a hard interruption, brought gratitude to every corner of the arena before the music even began.

The choice of venue shaped the mood. Rogers Place, a modern space compared to the venues of Heart’s early triumphs, allowed their ballad to resonate with clarity. The atmosphere was hushed, the lighting soft, and guitar lines cut through the air like beacons. Edmonton’s audience, patient through delays and uncertainty, received not a spectacle of noise but a performance wrapped in intimacy, fitting the reflective imagery of “These Dreams.”

This concert anchored a demanding Canadian leg of the tour, with shows in Calgary and Winnipeg framing the stop. After months of postponements, the band pressed forward with determination. There was no sense of caution, only drive, and “These Dreams” captured the essence of that resolve. Even when bodies tire and roads lengthen, the music seemed to say, the spirit endures—and that message landed with force.

What made the Edmonton performance singular was its authenticity. Nancy Wilson once again carried the lead vocal, just as she did when the song first climbed to the top of the Billboard Hot 100 in 1986. As her warm, weathered tone filled the room, recognition swept across the crowd, and the audience leaned in from the very first line, savoring the voice they remembered from the airwaves nearly four decades earlier.

The performance carried a weight of history. Written by Bernie Taupin and Martin Page, “These Dreams” began as a dreamlike lyric from Elton John’s collaborator, paired with Page’s gift for melody. To hear it in 2025, sung again by the voice that had given it life, was to hear autobiography where once there was fantasy. The song became less of a storybook and more of a reflection of life lived, scars and triumphs alike.

The arrangement favored restraint over spectacle. With Nancy layering acoustic and electric textures, Ann offering support and harmonies elsewhere, and the full touring band giving just enough color, the spotlight stayed firmly on the song itself. Each player understood the balance required, ensuring that the vocal and lyric carried the heart of the moment without being overshadowed by excessive flourish.

Fan-shot clips captured the intimacy of the moment: a wave of recognition as the opening notes rang out, phones raised briefly, then a hush. Nancy’s delivery, smoky and familiar, gave the song its anchor, while the band painted around her voice with delicacy. The roar of applause at the end said more than critics could—proof that a quiet song can shake an arena when it’s sung with truth.

“These Dreams” sat mid-set, a deliberate pacing choice that gave the evening room to breathe. Surrounded by hard-driving classics from the ‘70s and later-era gems, the ballad served as a moment of pause. It reminded the audience that Heart’s power lies not only in anthemic rockers but also in delicate whispers that travel just as far when delivered with authenticity.

The dual force of Ann and Nancy remained the show’s defining feature. Nancy carried the lead here, but Ann’s presence elsewhere on the stage reminded everyone of the partnership that has fueled Heart for fifty years. That duality—two sisters, two distinct voices, one shared legacy—turned the performance into more than nostalgia. It became a reaffirmation that their story is ongoing, still being written with every tour stop.

Context deepened every note. Ann Wilson’s cancer diagnosis in 2024 forced a pause in the group’s plans, and their return in 2025 carried a weight of survival. For fans, the performance was more than a concert—it was testimony. When a band steps back into the light after hardship, even familiar songs become declarations: we are still here, and the music still matters.

Many in attendance thought back to 2012’s Kennedy Center Honors, when the Wilsons stunned Led Zeppelin with their rendition of “Stairway to Heaven.” That moment established their reputation as interpreters who honor a song’s spirit while making it their own. “These Dreams” benefitted from the same reverence, with craft placed above showmanship, and emotion allowed to lead the way.

The crowd itself told the tale of Heart’s reach: veterans of the cassette era stood shoulder-to-shoulder with teenagers who knew the band from streaming playlists or viral videos. Generations crossed paths in the arena, and you could see them mouthing the same words—some remembering radio debuts in the ‘80s, others creating their first live memory in real time.

What elevated the night was its delicate balance. The song floated with dreamlike imagery, but the delivery carried weight and maturity. Rather than resting on nostalgia, the performance affirmed that music evolves with its singers, gaining depth with each passing year. Fragility and strength coexisted onstage, and the tension between the two made the moment unforgettable.

Age was not hidden but embraced. Nancy at 71 and Ann at 74 gave the lyrics new resonance, their delivery infused with the wisdom of distance and survival. The song’s longing and reflective tones rang truer than ever, echoing through voices that had lived the miles. For the younger faces in the crowd, the lesson was clear: songs can grow with time, and truth only deepens with age.

As the audience poured out of Rogers Place, the lingering sense was one of communion. “These Dreams” had acted as a bridge, connecting generations, stitching past to present, and reminding everyone why certain songs become lifelong companions. The Wilson sisters proved once more that while years may weigh on the body, the soul’s fire endures, and for those moments in Edmonton, the music was more than performance—it was a blessing shared aloud.