“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

After supper Jane reread my accounts of my dream of last Saturday morning. February 9, and of my waking experience the next evening.¹ Both events had involved intense perceptions of color and/or light, and I’d told Jane that anything Seth cared to say about them would be most welcome. I’m especially intrigued by any similarities between my two adventures and the near-death experiences we’ve been reading about lately. In those NDE’s, as they’re called, people have often reported encounters with intense white light. I hadn’t been near death during my own experiences, certainly, but I do feel that through them I’d glimpsed ever so slightly that “light of the universe” that’s been so eagerly sought for—and sometimes reported—throughout history.

As Seth came through, Mitzi was playing her favorite game—again and again knocking her paper-ball toy down the steps leading into the celler from the kitchen, then racing down after it and carrying it back upstairs.)

(“Good evening, Seth.”)

(9:59 P.M. Her eyes closed, Jane sat quietly in her rocker for several moments before leaving her trance state. Usually she’s “out of it” at once. “I kept waiting there, as though I was at the edge of something, and trying to get over it into something new. As though I was free-sailing…. My God, it was short enough,” she exclaimed as she looked at the clock for the first time. Actually, the session had lasted 1 hour 12 minutes—slightly longer than her average time of 1 hour 7 minutes for the last five sessions. Jane’s sense of time had been elongated while she spoke for Seth: “I feel like I was really far … like you were getting more than you could translate, like you were right on the edge of something….”

I told her that Seth’s idea of considering the colors in my dream as part of my cellular structure is an excellent one.

The next morning Jane had quite an unexpected insight to add to my own understanding of what those lampshades stood for. I was surprised. Seth discussed her connection later in this session.

2. We moved from our downtown apartments into the hill house almost five years ago (in March 1975), but Jane thinks she tried to write the poem Seth referred to several years before that. (She began speaking for Seth late in 1963.) I have no memory of her struggling with such a poem. I was most curious to see it so that I could quote a bit of it here. Jane has stacks of journals, poetry notebooks, manuscripts, and loose notes of all kinds, but neither of us could dig out what we wanted. Very frustrating! We hadn’t been as careful then about dating our work as we are now. “But I know I didn’t throw out whatever I did on that poem,” Jane said. One of us will probably find it someday—while looking for something else.

4. It took me a while to realize that Seth had made a most interesting statement here—implying that somehow I’d picked up Floyd’s worries about his age and virility. Floyd, Jane, and I are good friends, and he’s well acquainted with our work. He’s a few years younger than I am (I’m 60), but as far as I can remember the two of us haven’t discussed such matters, even jokingly. Consciously. I enjoy and appreciate my age and virility each day without being concerned about them, yet my dream certainly revealed that on other levels I’m at least speculating about such issues. It’s easy to say those cares represent negative beliefs, but I think much more than that is involved—universal questions, actually, that all men and women have chosen to contend with in physical life.