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I read it twice before I understood I wasn't supposed to understand it. The second time through I stopped trying to track the plot and something loosened. The notebook in room 315 stopped being a mystery to be solved and started being something I recognized from a dream I've had since childhood that I've never been able to describe to anyone.

I don't know what that means. I think that might be the point.

I am a practicing Catholic. I read The Receiver over three days and I haven't been able to go back to mass the same way since. Not because it destroyed anything. Because it showed me what I had been doing all along without knowing I was doing it. The pipe conducting the water. I've been the pipe my whole life and I thought I was the source. I still go. But now I go knowing what I'm doing and that's a completely different thing.

Page eight. I kept waiting for it. You know it's been suppressed. You know it's the thing that would change everything. And then by the end I realized I had already been given everything on the other pages and the absence of page eight was the point all along. The thing that cannot be said has already been transmitted. The absence is the transmission.

The garden hose entry. I read it and then I went outside and watered my garden and the wave hit me exactly as described. I've never had someone else's words produce an experience in my body like that. It arrived before I could think about it arriving. I'm still not sure what to do with that.

I felt something about myself reading these books. I can't say exactly what. Something I had been carrying for a long time that I didn't know I was carrying until the weight shifted. I've told people about the books and when they ask me what they're about I say I don't know but that's not accurate. I know exactly what they're about. I just can't say it without losing it.