“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

Furthermore, Ruburt did not like the idea of making an invitation on such short notice. Then he became aware that those particular thoughts were intrusive, completely out of context with his immediately previous ones, for only a moment or so earlier he had been congratulating himself precisely because he had made no plans for the day or evening at all that would involve guests or other such activities. Very shortly he forgot the entire affair. Then, however, about fifteen minutes later he found the same ideas returning, this time more insistently.

By this time it was somewhat later in the day. Ruburt and Joseph ate lunch, and the mail arrived. There was a letter written the morning before (on Friday) by the same friends that had been so much in Ruburt’s mind. They mentioned going on a trip (on Saturday), and specifically asked if they could visit that same afternoon. From the way the letter was written, it seemed as if the friends—call them Peter and Polly—had already started on their journey that (Saturday) morning, and would stop in Elmira on their return much later toward evening. There was no time to answer the letter, of course.

Peter and Polly would be on the road, it seemed, unreachable by phone, though they had included the number of their answering service, and had also written that they would call before leaving—yet no such call had been received.

It would be simple enough, of course, to ascribe Ruburt’s thoughts and feelings to mere coincidence. He remembered the vividness of his feelings at the time, however. It looked as if Peter and Polly were indeed going to arrive almost as if Ruburt had in fact called and invited them. That evening the visit did take place. Actually, some work had prevented the couple from leaving when they intended. Instead, they called later from their home to say that they were just beginning their trip, and would stop on their way.

Over the past year or so I’d become more and more concerned about what I could do if a nighttime emergency—like a fire—trapped Jane and me in our bedroom. Because of the conventional ranch-style floor plan of the hill house, our bedroom is isolated from the front and back doors; we reach it at the end of a hall opening off the living room. We had no door at the entrance to the hall. A blaze anywhere in the central section of the house, with its heat, gas, and smoke, could easily prevent me from reaching the front or back door as I sought to carry Jane to safety. (It would be useless to try to push her in her chair.)

The windows in our bedroom are rather small. Even if I could manage to force Jane out of one of them, in an act of desperation, she would almost certainly be injured as she fell to the ground amid the tangle of juniper shrubs growing below.