“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(“I’m still in the car,” she said, “and it sits on the bank...” Her voice rose toward crying again but controlled this. “People are coming, but it seems like they’ll never get here. I don’t know.”

(“Boston...avenue...Nina,” [whispered; mouth odd again] “stolen... picture about the river. Movie...” Jane rubbed her upper left arm, muttering. “My arm hurts.” Again Jane jumped on the couch, her mouth odd. She bent forward, eyes closed, and reached down toward the floor. “There’s something on the floor of the car... floor hanging out..?” She kicked off her shoes and sat with her legs doubled under. Again she was upset. Her right hand against her cheek, head down, moving about.

(There was a pause at 10:47. For the first time Jane’s eyes opened. Wide, they stared straight ahead, toward the bookcase. I soon saw that she was not seeing anything in the usual sense; nor did she hear me. Then her eyes closed. “Robby, tell them, whoever they are...they shouldn’t be here. It’s all right...”

(Jane felt that when she opened her eyes wide toward the end of the experience she’d start yelling: “Who are you? What are you doing here?” etc.; this is when she asked me to speak.