“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(Jane ate a good lunch. I filled out the menu for tomorrow so that I too would receive a full Christmas dinner to eat with her. I described to Jane a very strong, vivid dream I’d had last night of her being fully recovered and in excellent health. The scene was at a neighbor’s down the street we lived on—not Pinnacle Road—where there was a party going on. Bob McClure, who is dead, was there. I was telling everybody that Jane had just spontaneously recovered her health and the ability of walking: I could see dimples in her knees as she moved about. She was telling people—many of them strangers—about all of it too. I knew this was an excellent dream.

(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.

(“Will he discuss my dreams?” I asked.

Ruburt’s dream of last evening, and your own, both draw excellent probabilities into the realm of physical actuality.

Your other dreams regarding the Gallaghers (see the session for 12/22), and the dreary-looking place on Water Street, merely depict the end result of negative beliefs—and the Gallaghers represent negative beliefs that nevertheless were friends of yours, that is, you were friendly to those negative beliefs.

(“What was Bob McClure’s role in my dream of Jane walking last night?”)

(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.)