A male correspondent, writing from a trip down the Danube from Vienna to Budapest in 1933, tells Neville he fell in love with the nighttime view of Budapest and later resolved to find something like it once he returned home to Missouri. By the time of this telling he has been attending Neville's meetings for two years, and reports using imaginative technique -- standing at his window with eyes shut to apply what he had heard in Neville's teaching -- to recover the beloved view he had lost.

A friend wrote to Neville describing how, three weeks earlier, another friend had called him afraid of being fired; he instantly revised the call in imagination, replacing the fear with news of praise for his work. On the day he wrote the letter, that same friend came to his office and said almost the words he had imagined hearing weeks before.

Neville tells of his friend Walter, a painter who lost a block of time after allegedly being struck by a jealous friend on the docks in Trinidad; Walter believes he was shot there and is now confined to a home for the rest of his life.

A dear friend of Neville's - an Iowa farm boy raised Roman Catholic, an alcoholic who spent weeks in jail before joining AA twelve years earlier and who longed for proof his mother survived - woke inside a dream and met her: she had died feeling and looking 20, had found herself in the year Three Thousand and Eight in Pennsylvania, had matured to 32, was remarried to someone other than his father, and told him that everyone there knew Neville and his teaching though she had never heard of him in life.

A friend of Neville's down south took the fourth-chair barber in a barbershop, who loved barbering, and imagined him the head of a shop; six weeks later the owner sold up, the barber bought the shop, and he went on to win barbering contests including a regional prize of a thousand dollars.

A woman came to his home about a problem, they ended up discussing something else entirely and went into the silence on that other matter; she then crossed on the Staten Island ferry, ate cabbage and sausages at a German restaurant without a thought for her chronic stomach trouble, and had no distress.

A violinist friend, Harry Webb, saw a collapsible dress box in a vision, cut an accurate model of it, patented it and sold the patent for $10,000 while the manufacturer made millions.