“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

Now an old friend of mine from days at Pratt came to either work with me or visit. I believe the former. His name is Ralph Ramstad and we haven’t heard from him in any manner for many years. I went through Pratt with him, and Jane met he and his wife once after we were married and were still living in the NY metropolitan area. In the dream Ralph, who is quite tall (6’4”) and thin and wiry, needed some shorts to wear for work. He had none and I offered him a pair of mine, saying I thought they’d fit well enough. But when he pulled the shorts up around his waist the blue denim kept turning into a blue Turkish towel type of fabric that he tried to pin together so they’d cover him and wouldn’t fall down. He kept trying to make something useful out this affair, and the more he tried the more obvious it became that he was trying to wrap himself in a blue-and-white Turkish towel in lieu of shorts. He didn’t seem upset and wasn’t as old in the dream as he would be now; still blonde.

In connection with the Turkish life, you decided upon certain handicaps this time. You were the adored sons of a Turkish chieftain, following the social patterns of your times, gifted at birth with power and position.

(2. Something about Jane’s Turkish life. [...]

[...] In the Turkish life that meant following Allah and the dictates of holy battle. [...]

[...] More than this, people come to you, as befits your Turkish condition. [...]

[...] When he tries to put on ordinary working clothes, however, something happens: the shorts keep changing into a Turkish towel, and harder he tries to pull the pants on the more and more they change, until there is no mistaking that the shorts simply will not do. [...]

The Turkish towel represents the private nature of the self—private attire that you might use in the bath, of intimate nature that comes into contact with the body not so much to hide it as to dry it, give it pleasure, or what have you. [...]

[...] He thought, for example, of his own pajamas that he wears now instead of the jeans he wore before, and it seemed to him that in all his strivings he had in one way or another also acted like your friend whose jeans kept turning into the Turkish towel: he had been trying to protect an important way of relating to the world, or to protect a way of life. [...]

[...] Have Ruburt give himself suggestions that he will dream of his Turkish life, for there is information there that can help him now. [...]

[...] There were two Turkish lives, one after another. [...]

(After the session she had more impressions off to her left of the Turkish leader—“the white teeth and dark skin. [...]

[...] We wore long billowing trousers, bound tightly at the ankles, Turkish-style. [...]

Early in our sessions, Seth said that he once had a Turkish existence, but we have no information on one for us. [...]

The Turkish life was the only colorful past life I’ve had to my present knowledge. [...]

But what about that location, the Turkish hall? [...]

Look at Ruburt’s Turkish dream. [...]

[...] As I sat on the couch in our living room, my oil painting of Ianodiala, the 14th century Turkish clairvoyant, hung on the wall behind me. [...]

[...] While Seth was giving the data, Jane said, she wondered what an Arab would be doing in Turkish Constantinople in those days. [...]

[...] I want him to give another suggestion for a Turkish reincarnational dream, and I want him to suggest that he see his life in context with others that are equally his own—for from them he can draw greater understanding, energy, and the knowledge that physical vitality, and mental and psychic vitality, go quite well hand in hand. [...]