It Started Out With a Dream… Literally

It started out with a dream…
Literally.

I found myself standing in an infinite open space. The kind that stretches forever, where time doesn’t exist and everything feels like possibility. In front of me stood a man — striking, radiant, and strangely familiar. He didn’t introduce himself, but I knew exactly who he was: Archangel Gabriel.

Oddly enough, he looked like the actor John Goodman — warm, inviting, with a twinkle in his eye and a contagious smile that made me feel instantly safe. He stood next to a massive tree, and just like the tree, he was towering, majestic. But none of that felt intimidating. It felt…right.

Then he said something that would live in me for years:
“You’re going to have a baby girl.”

He turned to the tree and said, “She is strong,” and touched the sturdy trunk.
Then, bending the tree with an effortless motion, he said, “She is flexible.”
And finally, he looked at me and said, “She is kind.”

That dream stayed with me like it had just happened yesterday. I remember it vividly — we were staying in Swaziland at the time. Back then, the idea of becoming a yoga teacher, a personal trainer, or sharing my knowledge on plant based nutrition hadn't crossed my mind. But I was no stranger to dreams, spirits, or angels. Since childhood, I had felt their presence, communicated with them, trusted them.

After waking, I truly believed I was going to have another child. Even though my husband had had a vasectomy and joked, “Well, the baby’s not coming from me!” — I still had this deep intuitive sense that a little girl was on her way. I felt chosen, touched by something divine.

But Spirit had a different plan.

Instead of motherhood, I was led down a path of self-actualisation. At first, I questioned it — Why me? What made me worthy of such a vision, such a message? Then one day, a quiet truth came through:

"People aren't chosen or valued because they're flawless, but often because their imperfections give them unique strength, perspective, and purpose."

That line cracked something open in me. I had always feared yoga — not the poses, not the classes, but the self-reflection it demanded. I was scared of what I might find in the silence, in the mirror. I'd numbed that fear with food, cigarettes, alcohol, chocolate — anything to escape. Somewhere deep inside, I believed I wasn’t lovable, that I was too weird, too different to belong. As a child, I even believed my family might take their masks off at night and plot their secret life without me. Strange, I know.

But about a year after that dream, I faced the fear. I took my first yoga class. I cracked open. And what poured out was truth.

Yoga became more than movement. It was a remembering, a return to self. That journey led me to take the leap and enroll in teacher training — a terrifying yet transformative experience. It wasn’t all “zen” and flow; it was often uncomfortable and confronting. But within six months, I found myself growing in ways I never imagined.

Later, close friends encouraged me to pursue my Personal Training certification. Once again, fear reared its head. I was the kind of person who needed to be the straight-A student. Mistakes weren’t just mistakes — they were mini identity crises. Criticism felt like failure. But that journey taught me how to let go of perfectionism. To learn, to fail, to rise again.

Then came 2025. I sat in front of my laptop, trying to create a logo for my business — Vital Glow. I wanted a slogan. A message. Something that captured the essence of everything I had been through and everything I wanted to offer others.

And just like that dream — like lightning — it hit me.
I had a baby girl.

She wasn’t of flesh and bone — she was my business.
She was Vital Glow.

Strong. Flexible. Kind.

All the things Archangel Gabriel showed me in that dream.

• I became a personal trainer to help people find strength — not just in their bodies, but in their minds.

• I became a yoga teacher to help people stretch — not just their limbs, but their perspectives.

• And kindness? That’s just what happens when we realise everyone’s fighting their own quiet battle. We soften. We hold space. We show up.

Looking back now, that dream was never about giving birth to another person.
It was about birthing myself.