“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

[...] In an excellent projection you forget the self on the bed. [...]

[...] In the middle of a projection you may suddenly remember the self on the bed, and in the middle of a given existence you may suddenly remember a previous self. [...]

[...] There are many numbers on both sides of the object and its parent page, 11 and 12, since the page features sales of bedding, blankets, sheets, cases, etc., all by size and color and dimension. [...]

(This evening she lay nude on her back in her bed in room 330 in St. Joseph’s hospital. [...]

[...] She realizes that she lays tilted up at an angle in bed, and that if she lay flat she couldn’t reach as far down toward her legs, but even so, signs indicate that her elbows seem to be flexing more. [...]

[...] It is far simpler to give a child aspirin, and send a child to bed with ginger ale and a coloring book.

[...] It was gone by the time I went to bed, but taught me that sometimes the old ideas and beliefs die hard. [...]

[...] Linda came in just as I was on my feet, and helped me haul Jane toward the head of the bed after I’d turned her on her back. [...]

[...] Jane wasn’t going to hydro this morning, and Georgia was starting to bathe her in bed.

(“What about those sudden movements he said he made with his legs last night, when the nurse dropped the cigarette on his bed?”)

[...] Jane was truly exhausted, and went to bed at once. [...]

[...] Surely he must be aware that his mother’s characteristic pose in bed was one that necessitated a complete turning of the upper body, whenever she wished to look one way or the other; and that her neck, because of her arthritis, could not turn normally.

[...] But without it, we couldn’t even get out of bed in the morning or breathe, much less walk across the floor. [...]

While I sleep and lie stretched out,
Eyelids closed and pupils dark,
Who walks wide-eyed downstairs
Through the door in the cold night air,
And travels where I have never been?
Who leaves clear memories in my head
Of people I have never met?
Who takes these trips while I
Never lift one inch from bed?
Who dreams?

In this case the child did not dare slap the parent, for even the slightest move upon the mother’s bed, the slightest most unintentional motion, made the mother cry out in pain. [...]

Again, the quick nervous turning of the child upon the bed bought instant cries of anger and of abuse. [...]

He is afraid of the bed and the bedroom. [...]

[...] Father Ryan gave Ruburt his first typewriter, and desk, and bed. [...]

[...] “Yeah,” I said, “but how tough can a session be, compared to your daily situation laying in bed in the hospital? [...]

(She’s also been quite restless in bed at night. [...]

Sexual freedom, then, does not involve an enforced promiscuity in which young people, for example, are made to feel unnatural if their encounters with the other sex do not lead to bed.

(At times Jane wakes me up at night; she’s very nearly crying in discomfort, yet now we understand that those feelings represent her muscles wanting to be used; so far, though, we haven’t managed to get ourselves out of bed at such times, which usually develop perhaps an hour before the alarm is to ring; these bouts, then, happen after she’s usually slept for several hours, and the body wants action. [...]

(11:31.) The feeling of hopelessness resulted when he felt that perhaps he could not alter the pattern, that he had made his bed, as his mother used to say, and he must lie in it. [...]

It is good of you to make the bed, and at this state at least the condition of his arms makes it difficult. [...]

[...] He will wake up in another bed in another room, where he will be led to understand his true condition.

[...] Some of it could apply; I did not understand the reference to bed and bedroom however. [...]

[...] She mentioned various periods of improvement — her work on her unfinished and unpublished autobiography, From This Rich Bed; her published novel, The Education of Oversoul Seven, and so on. [...]