“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(One of the first houses Jane and I looked at yesterday occupied a hill side corner lot in West Elmira, on a street we’d never been on before. [...]

[...] Streets — without sidewalks — passed the hill house on but two sides, at the southwest corner, and each one dead-ended less than a block away. [...]

(Here’s one point brought out in that deleted material: Since Seth had told Jane and me long ago that the three of us belong to the Sumari family of consciousness,⁴ we were more than curious now when he declared that the woman who presently owns the house on Foster Street is also a Sumari: “[She] added Sumari characteristics of expansiveness.” [...]

In connection with Boston, there was a street, I believe called Grant, or there was a building called the Grant Building or residence, which was used in connection with a church. [...]

[...] Not high, but containing several streets. [...]

[...] This dream involved the large playground she visited often in waking life, across the street from her school in Saratoga Springs, NY. [...]

[...] Jane sits at her desk facing the row of windows to the west; from there she has an excellent view of the backyard and the street beyond. [...]

[...] He shoved her out into the street and rolled her over and over on the stones and in the dirt; but she died.

“She … she lived three doors down the street, in a dark front room. [...]

“The main street.”

I shivered, seeing the dress catch fire and watching once again as the cobbler rolled the girl out to the street, beating at the flames. [...]

[...] You were embarrassed in the street. [...]

The fact is, neither of you wanted to appear on the street. [...]

[...] Rich and poor alike walk down the same city streets. The same street does not suddenly become gold beneath the foot of the rich man and woman—and potholes in city, state, or government roads are felt alike by the tires of the Cadillac and the lowly Volkswagen.

[...] The cobbler shoved her out in the street and rolled her over on the stones and in the dirt, but she died.

(Sarah lived 3 doors down the street in a dark front room. [...]

(I can more or less see the main street. [...]

[...] Jane told me that after she got back to her room from hydro she had an excellent little experience, something like a waking dream, perhaps: She took some already cooked T-bone steak out of a refrigerator, and started eating it as she walked across a street. [...]

Ruburt’s brief dream experience, in which he crossed the street and began eating lustily a piece of steak, unconsciously activated all the portions of the body that would be necessary for such activity, though on a miniature scale. [...]

Ruburt has the impression of the school fence across the street from the house in which he lived, and he is thinking of a particular photograph of his own that involved his house, the street, part of the fence, and perhaps some children. [...]

[...] The house across the street is very small in the photo; for Seth to make an association with that house is most intriguing to us. [...]

[...] Jane believes it refers to her recurring playground dream, and the fact that her school was directly across the street from the site of her dream. [...] Although the building was directly across the street from the playground there was no access between the two. [...]

[...] The playground is directly across the street from the Catholic school Jane attended. [...]

[...] Jane said it is interesting to remember that from the classroom in which she had many long talks with Father Ryan, she could look across the street at the very section of the playground which served as the setting for her recurring dream.

[...] I started out walking, but soon my nighttime excursions turned into running on those hilly streets in our neighborhood. [...] I came to know intimately all of the dead-end streets opening off the main road, Coleman Avenue, like steps in a ladder that led up the hill to Pinnacle Road. I encountered wildlife on those streets. [...] I stopped moving; they stopped; each side stared at the other in the porch light from a house across the street....

[...] And so, we learned more than once in warm weather, could neighbors and passersby on West Water Street when our windows were open. [...] Long ago, the three floors of the old house, a typical turn-of-the-last-century “mansion” on the main street three blocks west of Elmira’s business district, had been converted into eight apartments. [...]

[...] Jimmy (long deceased) was a kind and outgoing landlord and restaurateur who lived with his wife and three children on the second floor of the old converted horse barn and carriage house in back of the apartment house he owned at 458 West Water Street, where Jane and I lived. [...]

[...] Sue Watkins, a dear friend who was to write several books about Jane’s work with the Seth material, lived just down the street for a while before moving to the country. [...]

[...] The outside distractions from the street, for the first time it seems, are keeping Ruburt at a level of consciousness which is not quite adequate for my delivery of the discussion that I had in mind.

(John also noted that he was keeping alert for any sort of trouble involving a woman neighbor who lives three doors down the street from him. [...]

[...] Jane said she believed the “12” came from the address of Dr. Colucci’s office, 112 Walnut Street, around the corner from our address on W. Water Street, and that Seth speculated about people because of Dr. Colucci’s waiting room being a gathering place for people.

[...] Dr. Colucci’s office is but four doors down the street from the M.D. she visited. [...]

[...] Jane sounded awed, though, when she said that the Walnut Street Bridge would “go.” [...] We couldn’t see it because of the houses across the street.

[...] The next morning I walked over to the Walnut Street Bridge. [...]

(Pines—her house is almost completely hidden by the street.

In this dream, you are given permission by a somewhat elevated authority to go faster than the other people along Water Street. You are told more or less that you can go faster without harm, yet the dream itself poses a question, for it does not seem that you actually cover the ground to the red light at Hoffman Street any faster. [...]

Motorcycles through streets, or bicycles. [...]

[...] ramshackle, stilted from the back but level at the front to the street. [...]

(“State Street in Elmira?”)

[...] I sit at the same table now as I did when I began it, looking out at the same streets and mountains. [...]

[...] (Later I found several old photographs of it in one of our family albums, and was reminded that in those days the streets had no curbs.) Even today I can recall most of the families, and their children, who’d lived in the immediate area. [...]

Now when Jane and I drive over those modest streets, I feel a sense of familiarity and strangeness that’s hard to describe. [...]

The place in question is located within a few blocks of the neighborhood to which my family moved in 1931, as described in Note 1. Since it sits on one of the main streets of Sayre, at a busy corner, I know that I must have passed by it many times in subsequent years; yet I’d never noticed the house as an individual entity until Jane and I walked up to its front door with the Johnsons. [...]

[...] The day was cool and rainy, and then snowy—I’d opened a curtain, and I could see a rather heavy wet snow falling upon the trees, rooftops, streets, people and cars. [...]