“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(Eyes still closed, face streaked with tears, Jane whispered, “I’m trying to control it...” Her breathing quieted as I talked to her. I thought of shaking her out of trance, but didn’t know whether to or not. Jane sat quietly through a long pause, then muttered: “Cracked glass ... windshield. I don’t know where I am now. I’m in the driver’s seat ... Whoever was on the other side of the car is gone.” [Pause.] “It’s very quiet ... Maybe nobody find—maybe nobody find us ...” she whispered. Each time I thought she might be coming out of it while quiet, Jane would then go back into the experience.

(“There were two cars,” Jane cried out, glasses thrown aside. Mouth odd. “So quiet ... am I dead? Right there... arm’s funny.” Now she rubbed her lower left arm; she cried out, voice rising almost to a scream: “I was driving. Can’t make out—!” Jane burst into tears. “Papa, Papa, Papa...” I spoke to her loudly but it did no good. “I... Papa should know it wasn’t my fault. Brakes bad... I can’t decipher...”