About ten days ago, my life took an unexpected turn—I had a stroke. It shook me, quite literally and figuratively, and left me with challenges I never thought I’d face. My ability to walk and speak was significantly affected. My right side feels like it’s taken a sabbatical without my permission, and while I’m on a shaky path, I’m walking—a small, monumental achievement I celebrate every single day.
Recovery has been humbling. My speech is returning, and my legs are finding their rhythm again, albeit with a bit of a jiggle. Imagine someone trying to master a new dance style but without any instruction—that’s me, shaking my way through the day. Still, it’s progress, and progress is worth all the applause I can muster.
One of the scariest parts of this journey has been sleep. After the stroke, I was terrified to close my eyes at night, convinced I wouldn’t wake up again. My sister, Angela Sobey, stepped in with wisdom only she could provide. “Zee,” she told me, “if you don’t sleep, you’re going to hurt yourself more.” She gave me tips to ease my fears and help me rest, and with her support, I’ve finally started sleeping better. That alone feels like a victory.
A couple of days ago, I posted a bold declaration on my WhatsApp status: “When I make it to 2025, I’m going to take that dance class I’ve always wanted to take.” For years, I’ve been fascinated by Pantsula, a vibrant Sowetan dance style. It’s fast-paced, rhythmic, and unapologetically joyful—everything I’ve ever wanted to embody. I imagined myself learning the moves, connecting with the music, and reclaiming a part of me that’s been waiting for its moment.
And then, today, I woke up with a dream.
In this dream, I was lying in bed when a young man walked into the room. He didn’t say who had sent him, only that he was here to help me walk again. His method? Teaching me a dance. At first, I thought, “Oh, here it comes, my Pantsula moment!” But no—this was not Pantsula. It was ballet.
Yes, ballet.
This mysterious dream mentor picked me up from the bed, by the way, this is the second dream I have where someone picked me up from the bed and helped me walk. Anyway before I knew it, I was attempting pliés and pirouettes. At first, I struggled, my body resisting the unfamiliar movements. But then something incredible happened: I got the hang of it. I didn’t just dance; I soared. I was executing moves I couldn’t even name, my body flowing with an elegance I’d never imagined possible. It felt so real, so exhilarating. Nobody could stop me. I was a ballet dancer, and in that moment, I was invincible.
When I woke up, I couldn’t stop laughing. The dream was so vivid, so absurdly perfect. I immediately shared it with my sister, Angela, who found it hilarious—and maybe a little prophetic. “Zee,” she said, “I remember that status you posted about dancing? This dream cold be a sign. Ok, this what she said exactly. (see picture attached) Angela the legend.
KG and Baba Nsibande chimed in with their own interpretations, saying the dream symbolized good things on the horizon. It was a reminder that while the road is rough right now, there’s a brighter, more joyful destination ahead. Their words filled me with hope.
Dreams like this aren’t new to me. It's been almost a year and a half since I discivered that I have a spiritual gift, that allows me to see things that often come to pass. Whether it’s a gentle nudge from the universe or a message wrapped in humor and grace, I’ve learned to pay attention. This dream, I believe, is telling me that my story doesn’t end here. I’ll dance again—and not just in my dreams. I’ll dance in life, in joy, and in the freedom of reclaiming my body and spirit.
For now, I’ll keep celebrating the small victories: every shaky step, every clear word, and every peaceful night of sleep. And who knows? Maybe one day, I’ll master Pantsula and ballet, combining the grit of Soweto with the grace of Swan Lake. The possibilities are endless, and my journey is just beginning.
Here’s to dancing—in dreams, in life, and in the hope of brighter tomorrows.
Credit: Photography by ASH
