A man in the audience wrote Neville a letter this week, saying he had been at the previous Friday's lecture where a lady asked about the historical Jesus, and asking whether Neville denies the historicity of Jesus as he would not deny that of Lincoln or Washington; Neville answers the letter from the platform because writing back would take too long and he has no secretary.

Freedom Barry's grand piano, sent to the factory for $400 of work, vanished with the truck and driver on the way back; he phoned Neville in desperation, Neville imagined hearing him play a concerto on KFAC and thanked him for it, and the next day the piano was delivered at 4:30 in the morning, the driver having been arrested in San Luis Obispo.

Neville reads out a letter from a woman present at the lecture who, awake within a dream, found herself on a slab in a morgue where Neville appeared as a physician with a black-haired nurse she recognised as his wife in a wig, and had union with her; he interprets it as her supernatural conception and tells her to record the date in her Bible beside Luke 1:35.

Neville's wife had a vision one night of a grove whose panels (not doors) became animated and gave out beautiful human forms that began the dance of life; it turned into a dramatic, tragic dance and so frightened her that she woke herself, but she recorded what she had seen.

Neville recounts a vision his wife gave him two months earlier: they lived in a palatial apartment in a police state, hosting six dinner guests at a time; he explained to the guests the way of escape while they were already at their destination, and searchers who came never found anyone.

He tells his wife's vision of a clearing in a grove where two women each carried a book — one titled according to Judaism, the other according to Christianity — and read from them before a man at a table, leaving her struck by how much harder it is to be a Christian than a Jew.