“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

My first conscious contact with Jane took place less than two hours after she had died. After making certain funeral arrangements for her by telephone, before leaving the hospital, I drove home at about 4:00 A.M.

‘It was a warm starlit night,’ I later wrote to a friend, ‘just beautiful, and as I got out of the car and looked up into that depthless sky I felt Jane right there, above the car. She’d followed me home. “Thank you, Jane,” I said aloud, and went into the house.

October 10, 1984. Both of us had jobs at the large hospital in my home town of Sayre, Pa., eighteen miles southeast of Elmira, N.Y. The setting and the buildings weren’t like those of the “real” hospital in Sayre, though. It was a gorgeous summer day. Jane was much younger than she’d been when she died at the age of fifty-five. She still had her long jet-black hair, slim active figure and exuberant personality. I could have been my own age, sixty-five. We relaxed upon a large, sloping, very green lawn beside a brick hospital building that was several stories high. Then with great surprise I saw that on top of the near end of the building there sat an old, flat-sided, two-story house with steep roofs, weathered a drab gray and with all of its windows shuttered. Caught in one shutter was a filmy pink garment like a negligee, fluttering in the breeze. Curiously, Jane and I stared up at the house perched so incongruously there, and we talked about trying to get up into it to see what it was like inside.

[...] “We had to take her to a nursing home. [...]

Miss Cunningham stayed in the nursing home for a short time when the family was notified again that she was unmanagable, and that other arrangements would have to be made. [...]

[...] I stood there, yelling at him and wondering how I would get home. [...]

[...] I couldn’t wait till Rob came home so I could tell him what happened.

[...] As science advances on various planes, the inhabitants learn to travel between planes occasionally, while carrying with them the manifestations of their home station.

[...] However, since the inhabitants of each plane are bound by the particular materialized patterns of their ‘home,’ they bring this pattern of camouflaged vitality with them. [...]

What they do is take quick glimpses of your plane — and hold in mind that the saucer or cigar shape seen within your system is a bastard form having little relation to the structure at it is at home base. [...]

Then my visitor sat with my husband,
And smiled out through my eyes at the cat.
With me out of the way, he seemed quite at home.
“Good evening. [...]