“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

Other adventures followed: Rob disappeared, and I found myself walking along a strange outside corridor, like a public path, only high in the air. Other people passed, all dressed in delightful long flowing trousers and gowns of indescribable colors. Looking down, I saw that I was wearing a beautiful pair of trousers of some clinging, bright material.

The next thing I knew, I was flying above land a good deal south of here because there was no snow, and a Middle-Atlantic-States-type landscape. Many cars were heading north, and there was some commotion at an intersection below. A woman came out of a house nearby to watch. Some kind of a roadblock was set up. I tried to come closer to the ground to see more clearly, but instead was whisked back through the air to Elmira.

Last Thursday, May 6, 1971, 1 took an hour nap in the late morning. No suggestions were given. It was another dark day, and the air was full of moisture. I “came to” in Rob’s studio. I was standing before the open window, looking out at the pear tree, but it was the air itself that captured my attention. It was transparent as always but thick as Jell-O.

Astonished, I thrust my hand out the window, and the motion set ripples out, making fairly deep “cracks” near my fingers and more shallow ones farther away. The tree, I saw, was not only held up and supported by its roots deep in the earth, but by the air itself. Why had I ever thought that branches stayed up simply because this was how branches acted? The air itself helped hold them!

I was fully alert and more curious than I can say. Several times I put my hand out as far as it could go and wiggled my fingers. The air stirred, like pudding. There was much greater contrast than usual between the very dark clouds high above and the rest of the air, and colors — dark purple, a greyish white and several green and dark greys — almost appeared like clumps, thick and then thinning.

What would happen to objects falling? I wondered. From everything I saw, I judged that they would glide to earth or drop slowly through that textured air. The effect was far from inert, though. The sky and air moved constantly, perhaps like very heavy jellied water, with the trees stuck in like huge seaweed. I felt as if I could almost walk on the air, but from the motion of my hand through it, I knew it was not normally heavy enough to support me.

Cautiousness and wonder made me pause. For one thing, the air inside the room was normal. For another, I felt as if I was observing a legitimate glimpse of air from the framework of a different kind of perception. Was this in some way air slowed down? And if so, was my “body” in the same state? Was this what air was really like and was it perceived this way by certain kinds of consciousness or at particular stages of molecular activity? All of these thoughts went through my mind, but before I could figure out what other experiments I could try, I snapped back to my body.