“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

So the first spring of the sessions came, a cold bright March. Miss Cunningham’s apartment door became a stimulus to my constant questions. Every time I passed it, I wondered again: Was she transferring her consciousness to another level of reality? Would she survive death when it came, in meaningful terms? And behind all these questions there was the big one: Was Seth really a personality who had survived death? And would I really ever know?

“Mrs. Butts, Mrs. Butts,” she’d call, and when I answered my door, she’d say, “Come, see. Look.” And she’d rush ahead of me down the hall, so agitated that she’d shake all over. “Here’s one of those letters. Oh, where is it? It was here. Oh, I know I saved it.”

She’d almost tear the apartment apart looking for the threatening letter that she was sure had come in the mail. She was so persuasive that the first two times this happened, I wondered if she was getting threatening mail, as unlikely as this seemed. I suggested that we open her mail together each day, but then she still insisted that the letters came — slid beneath the door — and, of course, she always misplaced them or lost them. So, for a while it was touch and go. I was very worried about her.

Then the screen door opened. Dr. Levine, Miss Cunningham’s doctor, came out on the porch. He stood talking for a moment with a woman who remained inside. I thought: “I might as well ask him about Miss Cunningham anyway, regardless of what’s going on.” So I waited; in a moment, the doctor came down the steps. I walked over to him and said, “Hi Sam. Could I talk to you for a minute?”