“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(Saturday afternoon it was Fred Conyers from Denver, CO. [See the attached copy.] Sunday afternoon it was Gene Lang from NYC. This afternoon it was Mr. Lewis from Honolulu. The visitors arrived as though on schedule. Intertwined with these events were many others in recent days: The john in the cellar bathroom backed up and flooded part of the floor; I had to call the plumber—who’s been here and gone. I developed an intermittent, bothersome toothache. Christine came to clean the house. I typed the brief session for last Friday night. I went to the dentist, and shopping, and the drugstore and the bank. Marguerite Bumbalo visited, and Ellsbeth, and Frank Longwell [twice]. I worked on the budget. I bought some food, but need to go back for more. I also have to buy vitamins yet. With all of this activity, I’ve managed to get in just one-and-one-half hours of work on the preface for Dreams, during the last three days.

(Sometimes I wonder if I’m supposed to work on Dreams these days at all—whether it may not be a project whose time is not yet for either Jane or me. Today I speculated about just laying the book aside for six months or a year while we get other things straightened out. I got so tired wondering about it all that I napped for 20 minutes before supper—all I could salvage out of the usual hour’s naptime.

(Tonight she was so far out of it after supper that I thought there was no chance at all for a session. I reminded her that I was available should she want to try for one. “It bothers me that here we’ve gone back to the sessions,” I said, “but we can’t get at all that great material I know is there....” She assured me that she would make an effort to have the session tonight—at least something. Her head was bothering her.

It is not at all helpful, as once I told you, to continually refer to Ruburt’s condition as arthritis, with a formal title. A poor policy.

(9:35 PM. “I wanted all I could get so bad,” Jane gasped between breaths, “and I could feel myself lapsing.... I’d even caught myself lapsing; I was weary,” Jane said, laughing, that she’d be willing to sit there until 3 o’clock in the morning to get what she wanted in a session, but: “You’re not sitting on your ass until three o’clock in the morning,” I said. “Period.” Her decubiti were too bad for that to be allowed.