“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(As noted in the private session for May 22, I brought Jane home from her overnight stay at St. Joseph’s hospital the day before. Of course we had no idea of what all those tests would cost, and weren’t billed when she was discharged, since test results weren’t in. A few nights later, evidently after I’d been wondering how much the bill would be I had a dream in color, in which I was informed of the amount of the bill —$800-odd dollars. I saw the figure on a sheet of bluish paper that unfolded like a letter. I was shocked—so much so that I woke up after the brief little dream, for my best guess had been that the bill would be between $400 and $500. I told myself that the figure I’d been given in the dream was much too high.

(I didn’t tell Jane about the dream. I haven’t made any effort to record dreams since her illness, simply not focusing on that activity. I’ve recalled portions of some very vivid dreams, also involving my parents, but haven’t spontaneously remembered them in full detail as I usually do.

(Today [on June 3] the bill from the hospital arrived—for $812.00. Instantly I remembered the dream, while being appalled at the size of the bill. The dream had given me “true information,” then—a forewarning, if one wants to take it that way. I suppose I heeded it on some levels, certainly, for I wasn’t all that shocked after all, once the initial surprise had passed. I explained the situation to Jane, for the record, and add these notes. The bill was printed on blue and white paper and unfolded as in my dream also.

(Jane was particularly “out of it” for most of yesterday, after sleeping well past 9 AM. She often dozed in her chair and talked to herself, indulging in various flights of imaginative activity. Once again we wondered how much more of a boost her thyroid medication needed, but we haven’t heard from Dr. Kardon about it—or anything else, for that matter, since we had the meeting with Dr. Sobel last Friday, May 28. Our ideas have changed. Jane’s finger continues to improve, and for now at least we don’t even want to hear from any medical people. We regard the overnight affair at the hospital, and the enormous cost of it and the tests, as largely a waste.

(I had to go food shopping this afternoon, and while I was out Kenneth Wrigley called from Dr. Sonsire’s office. He asked about Jane’s condition, and said that in a month or so the ulcer on Jane’s coccyx might have to be surgically closed if it didn’t do so on its own. The last thing we needed to hear. Jane didn’t appear to be upset by the call, though—perhaps because of what we’d learned about medical methods by now. The cost of that little operation would also probably be astronomical—well over a thousand dollars, I’d say at a guess, so in light of the present bill from St. Joseph’s I doubt if we’d opt for it anyhow. We plan to make some comments on costs when next we see Dr. K., or whomever, anyhow, now that we’ve been burned a few times.

(“Well,” Jane said at 9:01, “I might get something real brief—which is all right as long as I can build up to something....” She spoke as, following Seth’s suggestions, we sat at the round card table in the living room, waiting to see what might develop. Earlier she’d sat at her desk in the writing room, watching the rain as dusk, then night, fell. [The greenery this spring is unbelievably lush.] Then I wheeled her back in the house.

(Jane’s voice was shaky, but her finger looked better. Eleanor Maggi, the nurse, visits tomorrow, and we plan to tell her to make her visits on Tuesday and Friday next week. Or I’ll call Upjohn with our new twice-a-week schedule. We’ve been on that schedule for a couple of weeks already, actually, and it appears to be enough. It also cuts costs. But a major reason for our reducing the nurses’ visits is to get rid of the constant negative suggestions they unwittingly broadcast, all in the name of trying to be helpful.

(As I wrote these notes Jane kept leaning to her left in her chair and lapsing into sleep. I called her several times. “Well, I’ll see what I can do....” Then in a fairly good voice, but with pauses:)

(“Thank you.” 9:26 PM. Jane said that while I was shopping today she’d dreamed or felt herself walking around the card table—not perfectly straight, but as though testing her weight upon her legs. A very good sign, I said.)