“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

It seems ridiculous now that it took me 116 sessions before I’d close my eyes or stop pacing the floor. By the time this first change happened in my trance states, I’d already had my first out-of-body experience, and following Seth’s instructions I was having clairvoyant experiences during daily exercise periods. But I felt in control of these, while Seth was in control of sessions, and to me this made a difference. I agreed to the new trance procedure, but it was still some time before it became the rule rather than the exception. The trance was a deeper one, though, and the material launched into more complicated subjects. It was also during this time that Seth started removing my glasses just before he began to speak.

By now we’d experimented with hypnosis in some age-regression and reincarnational work. In these I acted as hypnotist, with Rob as subject. We had never used hypnosis to induce a trance in Seth sessions, however, and we had no experience with hypnosis when the sessions began. Would Dr. Instream want me to go under hypnosis? I wasn’t at all sure that I would consent. Now, after reading about the hypnotic testing undergone by Mrs. Eileen Garrett, the famous medium, I know I’d never stand for it myself. (Self-hypnosis is something else—I use it now to give myself general good-health suggestions.)

We were delighted at the prospect of meeting Dr. Instream, but in order to pay for the trip, including fees for symposium attendance, we would have to use our vacation money. Besides this, Rob was now working in the art department of a local greeting card company in the mornings, and painting in the afternoons. So we would have to take vacation time to make the trip.

We drove up past the stately university buildings. How neat and orderly! If only life were that neat, I thought. Rob was still trying to comfort me when we arrived at Dr. Instream’s office. Was I really one of those talkative domineering women who used any kind of trick to control their husbands? I looked over at Rob. He stood there, quiet but assured, “cool” versus my “hot”—my idea of a man. Usually I’m talkative. Now I shut up and let Rob do the talking—or tried to let him.