“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

Were he not so honestly and unfortunately ill-disposed, the affair would be highly ludicrous. Last week he began and finished an excellent short story, and finished an outline, as well as holding our sessions, and beginning once more his psychological time experiments.

Consciously he knows better. I will not put our session off this evening, though I may shorten it. He will learn shortly, and without any real difficulty, that while his new schedule will be, as it should be, followed with discipline, nevertheless he cannot expect a new idea every day.

Concerning our friend Ruburt, another note. And that is that there is also a quite valid inner sense of guilt here, in that he has neglected his poetry.

Because of his rather intense mental work, I would suggest walks and other physical activities. Small social relationships on an informal basis will be practical. They will prevent too much inner involvement, open new doors, bring psychic refreshment, and also provide our hungry friend with his diet of new ideas. As indeed his latest story was initiated by a remark made by a neighbor.

I will close this part of our discussion, and suggest your break.

We have not yet finished our consideration of the nature of dreams, which will be given more or less in bulk.

I have said that the dream world has its own sort of form and permanence. It is physically oriented, though not to the degree inherent in your ordinary universe. In the same manner that the physical image is built up of an individual, so is the dream image built up. You can refer to our previous discussion on matter if it will help you here, but the dream world is not a formless, haphazard, semi-construction.

I will here end our session, and am pleased to note that Ruburt feels much better. Had I put off the session he would have felt worse by far, feeling guilty. Now my two pigeons, good night from your crusty friend. We are all in the same pie together, save that I am the baker and the crust both. Some recipe.

(October 13, Tuesday, 11:15 AM: Fleeting, forgotten images. As I first lay down, heard noise outside. Feeling struck me forcibly that it was caused by Marian Spaziani [our landlady]. Definite feeling, not a hunch, so strong I waited for her knock, which didn’t come. Thought I was mistaken. At noon someone in hall. It was Jimmy, Marian’s husband. He had been working around the house for some time.