“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

Dreams, then, come from various levels of what you call the subconscious. But as a rule any particular dream, although it originates in a particular level, will nevertheless have meaning on all levels. The meaning however may well not be the same. That is, the particular dream may be a method of saying different things or bringing different messages, the one particular dream automatically being translated by the various levels of the subconscious in terms of the interpretation given by any particular subconscious level to the dream symbolism.

Without dreams the outer camouflaged self would lose all touch with inner realities, or would be in danger of thus denying its own heritage; and therefore the physical body is so constructed that excess chemicals must be discharged and transformed into human action, or the physical mechanism would be clogged with poisons.

It then constructs its dreams in such a way that the symbols within will sift through all areas that are themselves less able to survey large vistas, but whose energies are focused along specific lines.

Intellectually he followed the ideas, but his inner self gave him the all-important initial message. His poetry does not spring from the conscious self, yet he would not disinherit it for that reason. Intuition represents the directions of the inner self, breaking through conscious barriers.

I had forgotten your break. Take it by all means.

(Break at 10:22. Jane was fully dissociated; so much so, she said, that she hadn’t followed the material at all, and had no idea whether it was any good or not.

Now, in any dream you will find a unifying image that will seem as diverse as this to the conscious mind. But it will speak to various portions of the self. In that dream you found the word tub referring to many various meanings, but in many cases you will find various other images, all cunningly connected so that it seems most unfortunate to you that the conscious mind cannot interpret them.

(Then, Alice Potter and I were driving down Route 17 to Sayre. She was very sympathetic to me, and I may have forgotten the reasons. I believe she was wearing a nightgown but am not positive. Alice parked the car in front of my parents’ home in Sayre, put her arm around my shoulder and said something. I then got out of the car and she drove away. I saw my parents’ home clearly there on Wilbur Avenue, but I did not go into it. Instead I started walking up Mohawk Street, around the corner toward Keystone Avenue, a block away. I was going to a theatre, a big one, on the corner of Keystone and Mohawk, though actually none exists there. I was now in striped pajamas. [I have none like this.] I was well covered by the pajamas, which were loose and baggy, and not at all nude.

(Next I was walking up the center aisle of the darkened, crowded movie theatre, still in my pajamas but not at all embarrassed or concerned that others would or could see me. The place was dark of course but I could see well enough. I was looking for someone or something I could not find.

(Next, Jane and I had been attending a party in a building on a busy downtown street corner, on the second floor. I did not actually see Jane but knew she was there at the party. Many people were about. I entered this part of the dream as I left the stairway to move out on the corner for a breath of fresh air. I was now dressed, and it was daytime. As I stood on the corner with people passing me in all directions, I stretched my arms high above my head. Then to my surprise I saw my father ride past me, past the corner, on a bicycle. Father was wearing a familiar brown hat, and a long brown topcoat, incongruously enough, and he was his present age. His face was very smooth-looking and pink-cheeked, looking very healthy, and he seemed to pedal past me quite easily, as a youth would do.

(I was very surprised to see Father. As he passed me he turned his head to look back at me over his left shoulder, smiling serenely all the while. Caught by surprise with my arms up in the air, I quickly lowered my left arm somewhat, holding it stiff, and waved at Father with my hand revolving at the wrist. I did not bend my arm but waved at him awkwardly with it held stiff so that only my hand moved. Father did not speak a word to me, nor did I speak to him or call after him. He kept on pedaling, seemingly up a slight incline just beyond the intersection. This was the end of the dream, and it made quite an impression upon me.

(These two dreams impressed me considerably, and I wondered whether they were clairvoyant in that they might presage an illness or farewell on Father’s part. I might as well add here, as well as in the session, that the three boys do not get together very often—on the average less than once a year I would say—because we all live in different communities, Loren and Dick have families, and of course each person is always busy with his or her own life.