“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(I painted as usual until about 8 PM. As I worked however I was aware that Jane was even quieter; this is always a signal to me that something is up. She said she’d felt strange since supper; now she said she felt that we shouldn’t be so subjectively aware, now; but that we should be as our future selves, observing the present scene and our physical bodies as they sat in the living room, from the outside.

(Jane didn’t see or hear anything different, yet felt that the kitchen, living room, and the studio seemed different somehow. As we sat in the living room, which was very clean and neat, and well lit now since darkness was falling, Jane said she felt a sort of pyramid or cone effect, directed at me as I sat across the room from her in the rocker.

(Jane now also felt sensations or vibrations in a small plaster sculp of a head, given to us by Bill Macdonnel. This head sat on our living room table across the room from the wine decanter. Note that Bill is also in California now—Santa Barbara—quite a distance up the coast from San Diego, where Pete lives. [Pete, at the moment as far as we know, is in the Hawaiian Islands.] Bill and Pete met once at our apartment two years ago.

(The colors in the room by now seemed very brilliant to Jane—pulsating. She didn’t necessarily feel Seth around, but could have held a session, she said. The top of her head “felt funny” to her. Now the eyes in the oil head I recently finished of the discarnate artist, Van Elver, seemed alive to her; the portrait hangs on a bookcase wall in our living room. Jane again walked through the apartment. Looking out at the kitchen from the studio, she said the path to the kitchen looked like a “charged pathway” to her.

(She felt strong intensities in the bathroom doorway; felt like she was a ghost, returning to the scene; everything was exceptionally vivid—so dear, so palpitating and alive. In the living room again, standing by the bookcase and looking out the windows, she felt nothing. Standing by the windows and looking into the room however she was once more aware of strong pulsations. Things sounded loud and clear; the quality of the traffic noise reminded her of the strength of color sensations.

(“I don’t know,” Jane said, then suddenly jumped on the couch and threw up her hands, eyes still closed, in the obvious grip of urgent strong emotion: “I don’t know —slam—slam brakes!” Jane cried and yelled out, almost hysterical. I sat beside her, not knowing whether to continue the notes or try to bring her out. My touch on her shoulder helped; her crying subsided but continued as she called to me. I remembered reading that gifted mediums will actually live through experiences; that although obviously under great stress, they are actually safe.

(It was then I remembered hearing Tam mention his girl, Eve, over the weekend, for what this is worth. This morning after I left for work, Jane lay down to experiment with psy-time, and had a dream involving Tam Mossman; the location of the dream, and possible out-of-body experience, was in back of our apartment house, though, and not in New York City where Tam and Eve live. Jane had no idea of the location of her experience tonight. It took place at night. Jane had the impression of police cars during the experience but they hadn’t reached her yet; although the girl knew the police were near.

(Our living room looked “more normal” to Jane now, by 11:15, as though things were subsiding, but she added that the charge wasn’t gone yet. The name Marguerite just came to her so she told it to me.