“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(The temperature was only 5 above when I got up at 6:30 this morning, but was up to 25 degrees when I left for 330.

(Jane was good, had been back from hydro since 11:00 again. Yesterday we’d received our copies of the Bantam paperback issue of The Nature of the Psyche, and I’d brought a book in to show Jane. She thought it was as terrible — as cheap and sensationalized — as I did. I hadn’t even gotten mad, I told her. I wanted a word from Seth on what our reactions should, or could, be, in light of yesterday’s session about living in the moment.

(I also had two more questions for her boy, I said as I fed her an average lunch. One was what does the staff, the people we see every day at the hospital, think of us? The other was Seth’s comments on a very vivid and long dream I’d had last night.

(In the dream, all of which was in brilliant color, I’d combined many elements, which I described in more detail to Jane than I’ll give here. First, we’d moved back to 458 W. Water — which I seem to do several times a week — and looking out my old studio windows, I saw my father cutting hair like a barber out in the driveway in front of the garage. I invited him to come up and take over the studio for a barbershop. Laughing, looking younger than his years, he did so. Then I was working for Jake Ruppenthal, my old boss at Artistic Card Company, when he was art director. I had left Artistic in 1972, to concentrate upon helping Jane with the Seth material. In the dream I was drawing foot-high oval letters in black ink, but was worried about doing a good job because my hand was shaky. Then I realized I could cut out the letters from cardboard or some such, and ink them in that way. Next, Jake and I were walking down a street in a town, on our way to see Jane’s mother. Midway in the trip Jake left me, saying I could go on alone from there.

(When I approached the room in which I knew Marie lay in bed, crippled by arthritis, I heard Jane and her mother inside. They were talking and laughing and crying all at once. I went in and saw them both in a double bed, fully clothed, arms around each other, forgiving each other. Both were younger than their years, both had shining black hair. Marie was bedridden, but Jane was perfectly healthy, and had come to forgive her mother, or make up with her. Quite a scene. The entire dream had made an impression on me, I told Jane.

(I told Jane that I didn’t think I’d figured out very much of it, beyond that I seemed to be remaking the past, and that all of the figures in it except her seemed to be figures of authority from that past. I also felt that the idea of authority was somehow connected with my shaky right hand, and since this aspect of the dream wasn’t discussed today, I’d like Seth to comment on it tomorrow if he has a session. I seem to remember from old pendulum sessions, that my mother is involved with the shaky hand, although she wasn’t in this dream. Stella Butts had died in November 1973, at 81.

(“Oh, he’ll never get to answer all three of them,” Jane said. Her Seth voice was again good.)

(4:12. Shawn came in to do all of Jane’s vitals. Temperature 98.6. Jane had a cigarette at 4:17. I read what she’d given so far to her while Shawn went for ginger ale. She was back with it at 4:21. I imagine the interruption cut short dictation.)

(Now Seth came through with a sentence I didn’t think was correct:)