“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(No session was held yesterday, Friday, December 23, but here is a summary of the day’s events.

(She explained that Jane hadn’t been offered a room on the second floor—because there wasn’t adequate staff to take care of her. [Jane later said Fred Kardon might have mentioned this some time ago; I don’t recall.] Madeline Sullivan said we were well off as far as our insurance goes, and I laughed and said, “Yes, only we can’t collect.” But she knows from family experience, she said, about troubles with medical expenses, insurance, and so forth. She said something about hospital policy being to review cases after a six-month period, but I couldn’t elicit from her when Jane’s current six-month period might have begun. The end of it could be as far off as next summer, I’m not at all sure.

(Jane did well eating today. She went down to hydro this morning but never got into the tank; it malfunctioned and she was finally brought back to 330 where Georgia gave her a partial bath.

(Yesterday I finally remembered to tell Jane about another vivid dream I’d had last week. In this one I’d moved into an apartment down on West Water near the downtown section. I saw a nice big studio-type room, quite bare with polished wood. But when I looked outside, I saw a rundown row of apartments next door, and in the first doorway stood a young mother in ragged clothing, with several ragged children sitting on the steps, staring at me. No noise was involved. I’d connected those people with old beliefs.

McClure represented beliefs, again, that were once friendly, but have passed away.

(Note that Seth had referred to a dream Jane had had last night. She’d described it when I reached 330, but for some reason I hadn’t made any notes about it for this record. Perhaps she’ll refresh my memory on it tomorrow—Christmas Day—and I can place it in the next session.

(And I’ll see you on Christmas Day, and we’ll exchange whatever gifts we have left. That will be nice, Sweetheart, but the real things I’m grateful for can’t be put into words. I’m grateful that we’re still together, and functioning, and all of the things we do that that statement implies. It’s a lot more than I thought I’d have to look forward to this season. And I’m surely more than grateful that we have so much more to look forward to—that many years yet lie ahead if us, of creativity and freedoms of kinds that now we probably only can consciously dream about. 1984 will be a good year, Jane, never forget that. Good night.)