“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

Part of me doesn’t want to contend with this material at all but last night I had one of the strangest, quite frightening experiences—all the odder because there are so few real events to hang on to. Anyway early after we went to bed I realized I was in the middle of an odd nightmarish experience, one terribly vivid emotionally, yet with no real story line. I only know that the following were involved: a childhood nursery tale or/and a childhood toy like the cuddly cat doll I had as a child named Suzie that I thought the world of. Anyway, the point was that the story.... and there I lose it; I don’t get the connections. All I know is that I awakened myself crying, my body very sore, sat on the side of the bed and made the following connections from my feelings at the time:

I equate this with three events: a movie I saw on TV the night before last where Sean Connery sees through the god of his people after reading The Wizard of Oz; a Raggedy Ann doll Rob found in the yard and brought in that reminded me of my old Suzie; and a part of a review I read yesterday on a book about death. The book was based on the idea that nature was against man; and that religion was man’s attempt to operate within that unsafe context. The feelings I was getting went even further, that religion or science or whatever weren’t attempts to discover truth—but to escape from doing so, to substitute some satisfying tale or story instead. And I suppose that if someone persisted long enough, he or she would find the holes in the stories.... and undo the whole works. The idea of the stories was to save each man from having to encounter reality in such a frightening fashion.... the characters in the stories did this for him in their own fashion.... and if you kept it up.... you threatened the fine framework of organization that alone made life possible....

[...] A child has been told not to play with a doll. [...] The child, wittingly or unwittingly, breaks the doll, and it is finally thrown away. The doll exists in time quite vitally as long as the child or the adult-to-be remembers it.

(9:40.) If the doll sat on a bureau and this is also vividly recalled, then the space in which the doll sat still carries the impression of the doll, though other objects may be placed there. [...]

[...] Now, he had a hobby and he made small dolls. These were dolls made of wood and into them he projected all of his creative energy, and he made a doll that looked like you, and he called it Susan without ever knowing where he got the name. [...]

[...] Many children give their greatest expression of love to toys, dolls, or imaginary playmates, because so many stereotyped patterns have already limited other expressions. [...]

[...] Tell him also to shake his arms downward from both the elbow and the shoulder, and in a playful manner, as if he were a rag doll perhaps. [...]

[...] Afterward, he was like some happy rag doll. [...]

[...] More than once Jane has asked me what I’d have thought at that age had I been aware that my wife-to-be was a “round-faced little kid, still playing with paper dolls….”

[...] I only know that the following were involved: a childhood nursery tale and a toy like the cuddly cat doll I had as a child, named Susie, and thought the world of. [...]

“I equate all of this with three events: a movie I saw on TV the night before last in which the hero finally saw through the god of his people; a Raggedy Ann doll Rob found in the backyard the other day and brought in (it was probably dragged there by a dog, its right arm is missing)—but it reminded me of my old Susie; and part of a review I read yesterday of a book about death.