“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(At our usual supper hour of 5 PM, I thought I noticed Jane quieter than usual. Jane said she became aware of her mood shortly after the meal. At first I thought she was tired and simply didn’t want a session, after the intense weekend we had just spent with Tam Mossman, from Prentice-Hall. As the evening progressed I changed my mind.

(At 9:45 she told me to get the Seth notebook, that we might have a session after all. Her subjective feelings were quite intensified. She felt “intensities” now in various parts of the room—notably by the built-in bookcase at the far end of the room from the windows. She thought Seth’s entity might be looking us over. Various parts of the room seemed to acquire significance in ways she couldn’t explain. Willy, our cat, asleep in a chair near me, wasn’t involved. The intensity traveled; now it was located in the blue wine decanter given to us by our friend Pete from San Diego, California.

(Jane said it was “like following a psychic focus around the room,” which I thought an apt phrase. It was a feeling “almost like something could form.” Both of us kept looking about. Jane spoke aloud, requesting that if anybody was around they let us see them or become aware of them somehow. She felt suspenseful.

(I thought that a coldblooded attitude, so talked loudly to Jane, and she answered between sobs that she was trying to continue without being overwhelmed. But then another wave of intense emotion swept over her: “Ah, hon... trying to control it ... I get Evelyn! Find Evelyn!” And crying, Jane repeated the name over and over.

(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.

(Jane thought she had been thinking about a Tam or a Cam, which of course apply to Tam Mossman or Bill Macdonnel. She didn’t see either man. Jane thought she was the girl, rather than an observer. She had been driving; someone beside her had been thrown out of the car on the floor. It had been a direct emotional experience for Jane.