“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

Dream One: I was in a beautiful landscape. There were two huge swings, the playground type, whose ropes reached straight up into the sky. Two boys arrived. They got on the swings, swinging way out over the hillside, over the lower land beneath, back and forth over the land for miles. Then a woman appeared and we began to talk. I told her that the swings fascinated me, but scared me also, because they were so high. Her automobile was parked nearby, and it suddenly occurred to me that I had no idea how I came to this place — which was in Ohio, I knew. This should have been a clue to me that I was dreaming, but instead I explained rapidly that I am an excellent hiker. Finally I got on one of the swings, swinging back and forth over the length of the hilltop, rather than over the edge of the land beneath.

This was followed by two innocuous dreams, also recorded consecutively.

I stood there a moment, wondering how she got in, and decided that I must have left the door unlocked. But how to get her back to her own apartment, I wondered? I completely forgot that she had moved. Now I stood by the bathroom door. She came closer, muttering under her breath, and for a moment the two of us were clearly delineated by the streetlight. Our eyes met. Instantly I realized that I was out of my body, and so was she. Miss C. gave a deep, frightened gasp and disappeared. Instantly, I opened my eyes to find myself in bed, body and all. I was as bewildered as I’ve ever been. Only one split second ago I’d been in the living room.

And some of these dream projections did yield evidence that was convincing to me. One night while experimenting in the dream state, for example, I found myself standing in a room about the size of our bedroom, but it was obviously being used as a closet. A single bulb hung from the ceiling. The walls were wood-paneled, in beautiful condition, and shelves were built along two sides. These were filled with boxes of various sizes, and jars of things like lotions and shoe polish. Clothing was hung on hangers by wall brackets all about. Everything was very vivid. What a waste of a great room, I thought. Then I saw that the room had no windows at all. I knew I was in someone’s house, and that my body was in bed. But where was I? Suddenly, I knew that the house belonged to Bill and Beverly Gray, previous tenants in our apartment house. They had moved to a house about a year previously, and I hadn’t seen them since.

About two days later I met her downtown, the first time I’d seen her since her move. My first book was already out, and she knew about my work, so I told her of the projection and asked if the room meant anything to her at all. Her eyes widened as she told me that I’d described an inner room in her new house perfectly, down to the bare bulb in the ceiling and the paneling. The room was really far too large for a closet, though small enough for a normal room. She hadn’t known what to use it for, and so she’d finally turned it into a closet.

Again, the next thing I knew it was morning. I wrote down what I remembered. The trouble was, I have two students named Tom. When I mentioned this in class, one had no idea of what kind of towels were in the bathroom. The other said my description seemed to apply to those in his bathroom linen closet. It wasn’t until several weeks later, however, that Rob and I visited Tom Height. “Come on, check out the bathroom,” he said, as everyone laughed. But the minute I entered, I saw it was the room I’d been in. The closet was right inside the door, and a jut in the wall blocked vision of the rest of the room. The cabinet and towels were identical.