“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

There should not be any rubber on or near the body, nor on the legs of the bed, for example. [...]

[...] From its position atop the pole at the head of Jane’s bed, the Bactrim still drips into the plastic tube, on its way into Jane’s right arm. [...]

At this point I hear a number of voices calling to me and I experience a false awakening, and know it, where I am lying in bed in a strange room but realize I must get up and write this experience down. [...] I see Carl next to me, and I relax, fall asleep and wake up in my physical bed.

I ‘come to,’ realizing that my body is in bed sleeping. [...]

[...] As of now we have so far mailed the letter to Eleanor re Rich Bed; phoned the ad about a house in to the Elmira paper; obtained the paint for Jane’s workroom; put up new curtains in her room; begun inquiries about the duplication of the letter for readers who write to Jane; packaged the first six chapters of Seth’s book to mail to Tam at Prentice-Hall tomorrow; begun to check the galleys for Oversoul Seven—all of these being items on the list we made out a couple of days ago. [...]

[...] In the meantime Ruburt should “bless” (in quotes) the bed in whatever way he chooses, because of old aspects picked up when you were ill.

(Walking into the living room before preparing for bed, I was surprised to find Jane standing silently at her desk. [...]

(In bed finally, Jane received two brief notes from Seth, rather incomplete. [...]

(Pause at 10:16.) Despair may seem passive only because it feels that exterior action is hopeless — but its fires rage inwardly, and that kind of contagion can leap from bed to bed and from heart to heart. [...]

[...] Your physical form can lie sleeping and inert upon the bed while your consciousness travels in a dream form to places quite distant. [...]

[...] “I suddenly realized I was hallucinating the water and stuff, that I was really in my hospital bed. [...]

(Debbie helped me lift Jane up higher on her bed before leaving. [...]

(Jane’s strange feelings were over by the time we went to bed. [...]

[...] I think it came to a head yesterday, when I finally realized that for the last few days Jane had cut down her visits to the bathroom to just two times a day—upon arising, and before going to bed. [...]

[...] She was upset of course, and so was I. I went to bed very unhappy with our situation—and I suppose that that feeling helped lead me to the group of statements below the next morning, and this session.

[...] The unusual thing achieved this time was that my left heel came to feel that there was nothing beneath it, as though it hung off the edge of the bed. [...] I verified that my foot actually was on the bed by exerting pressure. [...]

He felt you did not want him in bed anyway, so you would not complain there. [...]

[...] He made his bed, he would lie in it. [...]

[...] The body lies in its bed. Though you recognize in a dream the complete furnishings of an actual house, still the dreamer lies in his bed. [...]

(She told me that a couple of times today she’d had the impulse to sit up on the edge of the bed again. [...]

(Jane has achieved more motion and movement in her legs—her knees especially—since we began propping her feet up on a box as she lays in bed. [...]

I will now say good evening so that you may all go home and go to bed and have some real experiences. [...]

[...] In the second part, she was on her back in bed when her right hip did something and then her legs were equal in length in her vision. [...]

[...] She rests in bed mid-morning and mid-afternoon for a half hour or so, working part of the time on notes, poetry, etc.

[...] [See Note 1 for Session 901.] A few nights before that, Jane had awakened and turned on her table light, sitting up in bed to have a cigarette as she sometimes does. [...]