“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

[...] The other is that at 4:27 Jane called my attention to a new motion of hers: She reached across her belly with her right hand and down to the bed on her left side, to pick up a smidgeon of tobacco or bread crust. [...]

[...] Then a shouting voice, unrecognizable and quite loud off to my left as I lay on the bed, woke me with a start and snapped my head in that direction. [...]

(Then while on my back on bed with eyes closed, I looked up and saw myself standing up directly over me, with my feet seemingly upon my own chest. [...]

(Then, I was sitting on a straight chair in a room, looking at myself lying upon a bed. [...]

[...] Some of the rooms in Surgical 3 were dark, their beds freshly made and lying in wait for patients in the gloom. [...]

[...] Actually I did a lot of scribbled poetry notes sitting on the side of the bed with the windows open and the fan full blast, trying to take my mind off the nearly steady 90-degree or higher temperature. [...]

[...] This morning the ringing telephone got me out of bed at 5:45 a.m. It couldn’t be anyone except someone at the hospital, I thought as I ran out of the bedroom. [...]

[...] I lost my patience and my temper as I stood beside her, threatening to leave her sitting there all night while I went to bed. [...]

[...] I carried Jane in the bathroom last night before bed, and this morning when she got up after 10 AM. [...]

[...] Have Ruburt lie of the bed comfortably. You sit beside him or lie on the bed as you prefer—but verbally reassure him. [...]

[...] A blue blanket on the bed where they sleep? [...]

(Jane had been relaxing on the bed during break, and resumed speaking from there. [...]

(Jane still lay on the bed. [...]

[...] I told her her face wasn’t bloated out of shape, that it looked much better, and that she appeared to have a double chin because of her position in bed. [...]

[...] And when it is believed that the inner self is indeed a bed of chaotic impulses, then it becomes less and less possible for an individual to express normal ranges of activity. [...]

(Jane was upset when I got to 330 this noon: Her catheter had been completely pulled out of her this morning after hydro, when Georgia and Steve had transferred her back into bed from the litter. [...]

(Long pause.) When you are dreaming you cannot pinpoint your dream location in the same way that you can determine, say, the chair or the bureau that may sit on the floor by the bed in which you dream. [...]

(Once again Jane relaxed on the bed during break. Again she began to speak from the bed, propped up on one elbow, her eyes closed, at 10:21.)

[...] I want to emphasize that, without expecting her to jump out of bed tomorrow, or making any demands at all upon her. [...]

[...] Jane spoke Seth’s last few words while Sharon was at the foot of the bed, then broke off as soon as she saw Sharon. [...]

I have personally mentioned often the bed reorientation, which would help both of your dream activities, and add to your general well-being also. [...]

[...] The nurses awkwardly put Jane in bed after sitting her on the commode. A thick foam rubber pad had been placed on the bed beforehand, however, and Jane found it to be very comfortable. [...]

[...] I am not telling you to be so frightened of a negative thought that you want to run into a corner or hide under the bed or say “Oh, this is a negative thought, I must change it at once” and half-terrify yourselves to death. [...]

[...] If so, physical activity is a good way to work this off, if only pounding the bed. [...]

[...] He feared he was being taken care of as his mother was; and that you must resent it symbolically, as he resented it, taking care of her, and therefore the bed difficulty.

For the bed reinforced the mother image for him. [...]

My dreaming self
Looked in the window
And saw me on the bed.
Moonlight filled
My sleeping skull.
I lay nude and still.

My dreaming self
Lay on the bed.
I stood aside with awe.
“Why, both of us are one,” I said.
He said, “I thought you knew.”

Appointments are made and kept,
And records scrawled in haste,
While bodies wait in crisp white beds,
All untouched and neat and safe.