“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

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.

“This thing will never work,” I said.
“We must be out of our minds,”
But we weren’t, at least not yet.
The cat smiled but didn’t say anything.

“Her parents weren’t there, and Sarah didn’t live there either!”

[...] There weren’t many windows anyway. [...]

[...] We had had no instances of clairvoyance or any evidential material except for that provided in the early séance, and we had both decided that we weren’t ready to try anything like that again for some time.

[...] When you weren’t looking he was apt to hit you over the head with a rock for something you had said ten years ago, and completely forgotten. [...]