“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

Ruburt prepares himself in certain ways for our sessions. He forms a certain psychic and psychological framework, within which we operate. When there is question as to whether or not a particular session will be held, it is more difficult for him to make these preparations.

The dream images however are projections sent out, so to speak, by the personality, and many astral projections occur within the dream state of which the waking personality is unaware. In this case the projection is simply of a kind that allows manipulation back and forth between two realities. The dreamer who dreams he was in Paris may well have been there.

We will use an analogy for its excellent implications. It is as if the personality in sleep projected out of himself bits of himself, of his own physical matter, thinned out, stretched into an amazing plasticity; plastic properties that can change instantly from one form to another. He goes out with these portions of himself, but because of the nature of reality projections cannot be recalled.

(“Great. Just what we need. He’ll be coming any day now, though. You just wait and see.”

(“Things pile up, don’t they?” he said.

(“I’m all goose-pimply thinking about everything. All kinds of decisions. I’m waiting for them to totter down on us like a pile of bricks.” She grinned sheepishly. He sat down, but she stared at the table. Everything seemed threatened, curled at the edges, burnt black and in need of replacement. Her wide gray eyes were anxious, her slim almost boyish body had an impatient agility. She shook her head emphatically so that her short curly black hair bobbed up and down.

(Bob Hagel grinned at her, yet for a moment he didn’t know what to say. He had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. While he hadn’t made any conscious decision to leave the valley, he felt as if he had. He felt as if the whole thing was out of his hands. He sat there in his paint-stained khakis, a man almost forty, brave, cowardly, cocky. Before he spoke he tilted his brown-gray head at an earnest angle and stared at her with his usually severe face now wreathed with smiles. “Don’t take it so hard,” he said. “The world isn’t falling apart or anything.”