Dia Dayne

She was walking through the fields when it was evening. The sun still lingered with its warm rays gliding the paddy fields that stretched wide before her. It was then that she noticed him to her right, standing in the marsh that interrupted the farmland like a mystery. It was the Evangelist. She recognized him instantly. He had known her since she was a young girl and used to occupy the place of a father. Years had passed since their paths crossed, yet there he stood unchanged in attitude as if they had met only yesterday. He stood ankle deep in the marsh. He was dressed in sky-blue shirt neatly tucked into his tailored navy trousers, impeccably groomed, carrying the authority and charisma of a seasoned and faithful evangelist that anyone would love. He lifted his hand in greeting, and she returned it astonished, not at seeing him, but at where he stood. It was a square marshland submerged amid the cultivated field, but lo he stood firmly within it. She did not understand t...

She lay in her bed, suspended between wakefulness and rest. A friend had once told her that everything we project through our senses while awake inspires what we project in our dreams or, more precisely, in the realm of the spirit. So this time, she spoke the words aloud and let herself drift. I have fulfilled my divine purpose and calling. I am known as the girl who loves Jesus. She spoke them in the accomplished tense, as though they were already written into reality. There was confidence in her voice that it would be so one hundred percent. And then, in a fleeting moment, she was no longer here. She saw herself moving through space. A vast greyish-black expanse stretched endlessly around her. Was there a sound? She could not recall. But that was not all. All around her were millions of stars, alive, shining with astonishing brilliance. Each star was surrounded by a glowing, hazy light. She thought it impossible to capture them on a painting canvas. The closest anyone could try would...

Written verbatim, as narrated by the dreamer. Dated 30 August 2025 I was in a classroom, a student among white students. When new students entered the classroom, the boys seated to my right bullied them. Watching this made me feel sad. If the new students didnt fit in, these boys chanted, “ evil day, evil day .” They folded papers into horseshoe-like shapes, like pointed objects meant to harm people, and threw them at the newcomers. As I watched this, I thought to myself that these people don’t truly know what they are doing or how harmful the chant “evil day” really is. So I sat there and decided, God, I will pray. While they continued, I choose to sit quietly and pray for them. In front of me, I could see papers and boards stuck on the walls and as I sat there, I began to pray: “ Lord, please open their spiritual eyes. When their spiritual eyes are opened, they will know the difference between good and evil. Once they understand that difference, they will become good. Th...

  A good friend of mine from school and I still keep in contact, although we’re busy with our lives and are at opposite corners of the earth. As time permits, we do what most friends do: send long audio notes and wait for replies as and when time allows. Recently, after a long time, we caught up with a series of these long audio notes, discussing traumas from the past and the process of healing—whether self-healing or spiritual. My friend is not a Christian, but she understands when I talk about healing from Jesus and the healing that can come only through Him. Anyway, today the discussion led me to a surprising revelation, which I thought I should write about. When we were 7 years young, we had an unforgettable English teacher at school. She was stylish, always wore a saree, as teachers were required to, and was good-looking. But that was the only good thing we could tell about as kids.  She inflicted trauma on us that we carried for years. Since I did not have a pleasant chi...

          A college friend of my husband used to do a special practice. Every morning, she would wake up and spend time in bed talking to Jesus. Beginning her day with a simple, "Good morning, Jesus," she carried out this routine consistently for a year and a half. Each day, at 4 a.m., for 5 minutes, she would engage in this heartfelt conversation. Then, on a surprising and joyous day, Jesus actually came in person to talk with her,  much to her surprise & the delight of every listener. She found Jesus sitting on the edge of her bed, physically present and smiling as if He had been waiting just for her, like in the picture here.  This unexpected event showed how their strong bond and her dedication led to this special moment. The Comforter Art Print by Greg Olsen                Here is something I have been practicing lately, which I would like to call 'Engaging with Jesus - The Door'. John 10:9 st...

 Here is a funny story my father told me that he heard at a sermon in church. I hope it helps you in some way.      Long ago, when mirrors were an alien thing, lived a man and his wife. After a day's work in the nearby town, the man would walk through the woods in the evening back to his small village. The setting sun painted golden shadows through the treetops onto the tall grass and well-worn path that had been made by countless foot travelers like him. As he walked past the lush grass and trees, he noticed a glimmer in his peripheral vision. Turning around, he spotted something glinting between the grass leaves. With each furtive step he doubted his decision, but curiosity prevailed and he ventured closer to investigate. He stood over the source of the glimmer — a strange object that reflected the light of the golden hour. The light seemed to dim, revealing a dusty surface. He reached for it as if it held indescribable secrets, and discovered a startling figure tr...