“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

By now I was shivering also. I think the temperature was around 45 degrees. Fred sat in one of the folding chairs and I hurried inside. I slid the kitchen window shut so he couldn’t call into Jane. She still sat at the card table, of course. “We’ve got a problem,” I said to her on my way to the closet. “I’ll tell you about it....” I grabbed my heavy corduroy coat. “We’ve got to call the police. I’ll be back in a minute.” I helped Fred put on my coat and bundled him up. He readily agreed to my offer of some hot tea or coffee. I went back in to put the water on the stove for heating. In all the visitors we’ve had, this one went the furthest, I thought, to the point I’d often wondered about: actually calling the police for help in handling someone. I didn’t want to call them, but had no choice. I fumbled around looking for their number (we hadn’t written it in the front of the book, as you’re supposed to). When finally I called on the speaker phone, the number rang four times by my count, and I began to wonder what we’d do if for some reason the police simply never answered. Did they work Saturday? Call the State Police, I thought. When someone did answer, I explained the situation. Whoever I talked to had evidently been questioned by someone also looking for us—if not Fred himself —but his description of the person, as being older and with white hair, didn’t match Fred’s appearance at all, so I didn’t press the point. (Later I wished I had.) But I hadn’t explained much of the situation when my caller said, “We’ll have someone up there right away.” I said we’d be waiting.

The water wasn’t hot yet. When I looked out on the back porch Fred was gone. The door was half open. I had instant visions of him wandering away, not really meaning to, but perhaps getting lost—and wearing my best coat. His bags sat there on the ramp Frank Longwell had made for Jane’s chair. A moment later Fred came back into view from in back of the garage. “I had to go to the bathroom,” he said, tightening the coat around him. He didn’t seem to be so cold now. I told him I’d called the police, and he nodded. “Fred means you and your wife no harm at all,” he said, speaking for Seth again. I told him I knew that. I still wanted to know what he was going to do when he’d left here.

A stranger stood there, a man with thinning hair, deeply set dark eyes, a pudgy face, perhaps in his late 40’s—I’m not sure. His hair was black and straight. He wore a white business-type shirt, a tie, no coat, and gray business-type pants. I could see that his pointed shoes looked rather worn. A fat brown suitcase and an attaché case were on the ramp beside him. As soon as he started talking I knew we were in trouble.

(“A dark or darkish brown coat, the color of some uniforms,” is a reference to a sports coat of corduroy that Jane bought me for Christmas; this is indicated by the Penny’s sales slip for December 18. The coat is a close approximation of the color of the winter topcoat for the everyday U.S. Marine uniform. [...]

[...] Many voices, dancing,” refers to the first time I wore the new coat. [...] I have yet to wear the coat out of the house again.

A dark or darkish brown coat, the color of some uniforms. [...]

[...] Ruburt’s white coat, and last Saturday evening.

[...] As can be seen practically none of the data applies to the test object, with the exception of the white coat; the connection here is tenuous, and will be explained. [...]

(Jane said she had rather strong images visually of the data; twice she saw her white coat quite strongly. [...]

[...] Anyhow, he used a phrase that I remembered when I woke up: “I live in a brown-paper-bag part of town,” meaning a lower middle-class neighborhood; he implied that that was his station in life, and that he had no idea of trying to change it, or felt that he couldn’t. In the dream I wore a brown faded coat and perhaps a small matching hat. [...]

The police didn’t know how he arrived in town either, without money or even a coat. [...]

[...] It showed a life-size, full-face figure of Bill Gallagher wearing a long dark coat, as he stood against a somewhat stylized outdoor background of pyramid shapes in bright colors—either tempera or acrylics.

[...] As Bill Gallagher walked down the hall away from us upon departing, I saw that he wore a long black coat with I believe a hood upon it—a garment quite like that he wore in the vision, and one I possessed no special knowledge of in his wardrobe.

[...] Five female models wear coats, and many buttons are visible on the coats. [...]

[...] On the full page 11 are the figures of five women, modeling new styles of fall coats. [...]

[...] There is a $15.96 price given for one of the coats shown on page 11.

[...] They act often like barriers, or coats of armor, and according to the situation another person must first confront this condition or coat of armor, if he ever hopes to establish contact with the personality. [...]

I want all of you to learn enough and think enough so that you will be able to read my material on your own—word by word—and understand what I am trying to say without the sugar coating and the frosting, though frosting is good. [...]

[...] is not sugar coated. [...]

This artistic sense of responsibility was given a thicker coat by what seemed to be psychic responsibility: it seemed to Ruburt that he should use his abilities primarily to help others, or to help solve the world’s problems, or to cast some light into man’s condition. [...]

It added considerably, however, to the thick coat of responsibility that he placed about his own shoulders. [...]

I am not sugar-coating the process for you, for this would not be to your advantage. [...]

[...] A connection here with the letter J, with a 1936 date, and something which I do not understand—a connection with an upside-down umbrella, that may represent a symbol, a coat of arms, a sign on a shop door, I have no idea.

[...] We’d also had a little snow coating the grass this morning when I got up. [...]

(“Bill discussed this with a man we met, but he didn’t wear a coat or hat.”)

[...] I took care to slip the wet label in a coat pocket when neither Jane or the Gallaghers were looking, and as it developed Jane had no idea of the test object for the session.

[...] The connection with a fabric can be the coat pocket in which I carried the label home. [...]

(The day was cold—34 degrees—with a coating of half-frozen snow on everything; it had been accumulating through the night. [...]

[...] Billy hasn’t acted well since last Saturday, and his beautiful coat has lost its luster. [...]

[...] You do not discard a self as you might throw off a coat, but you do have a wardrobe of selves. [...]

[...] To a lesser extent now, the same applies to Eve, for she likes her unpredictability coated just a bit with some security. [...]

[...] It concerned fur coats, among other things, and she’s been getting flashes of understanding about it throughout the day.)

[...] This one was fully grown and bore a heavy coat of mixed black, brown, and gray hair; the colors exactly matched those of the tree trunk. [...]