“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

Dream 1—I was looking at some weird contraption, maybe mechanical, that my father had made, to leave me some money after his death; money was supposed to come out of it. A nice old man, sort of a kindly bum, came by and told me father had made it two hours before his death so that I’d have some inheritance; and the old man might have had a key that worked it; I’m not sure; but there was something about a key.... maybe also one missing. Anyhow a dribble of something, maybe coins, came out. I think the old man may have been helping himself, too, along the way. I told him that both of my parents were dead.

[...] Or maybe I’ll do a little more,” Jane said. [...] Maybe if you can’t do it, you can get some help.”

[...] Maybe things would have been different. [...] When I asked her if she wanted to be buried or cremated, she expressed no strong wish for either mode, but finally chose cremation — maybe because I said what would I do if I wanted to move out of town a few years after she’d been buried. [...]

or maybe it’s in Timbuktu

[...] Maybe I’ll start on something else and go right through it,” she said. [...]

[...] On a nighttime street in a city, maybe New York, a shot rings out. [...] I run into a nearby store where a very young man is shooting —robbery in progress maybe. [...]

[...] a feeling of clearing, maybe, like tiny windshield wipers clearing out the small circles which somehow have been clogged. Maybe as if they’ve held some kind of moisture in thickened form, that should have gone through the body. [...]

[...] I feel that I’m getting ready or maybe am ready—for something? that I wasn’t before—maybe just the next progression; but that I can not only get better—but excel; that is, I have the opportunity to.... [...]

(“Maybe if you’ll let me mutter on,” Jane said, with nearly a laugh. [...]

[...] If I could just put my head down and relax I’d be so relieved—then maybe I’d switch over to a session.” [...]

[...] I might have to go in and go to the bathroom, which I don’t want to do—then come back out here and see what I can do—maybe have a session....” [...]

[...] Something—pressure in my head maybe keeps changing—the bottoms of my feet feel woozy; they throb gently; so does my neck; my breath deepens, ears feel funny—was going to walk around the house or do some other writing but for now at least I’ll have to go along with... [...]

[...] So write this down—maybe can use it somewhere.

(Her talk veered around to the fact that once again she said she was thinking of dying — in her sleep, maybe — in order to get some peace of mind, and to give me some. [...]

[...] Who knows — maybe something can be salvaged after all.

[...] “Maybe I’ll get to go home after all?” she asked. [...]

[...] “Maybe he’s from town,” Jane said. “Maybe the police will just let him go and he’ll come back.” [...]

[...] Maybe he landed in Pittsburgh. Maybe he’ comes from Pennsylvania. [...]

[...] was Fred’s suitcoat stolen—maybe in a restroom or on a plane? [...]

You cannot say maybe yes, maybe no, but exert your faith. [...]

[...] Jeff said maybe the splotches on her feet were infected, and Judy said the drainage from the small ulcer on each hip had increased. [...]

[...] This in turn reminded her that Jeff had also said this morning that maybe she had an infection from the catheter, “since people always do.” [...]

[...] Maybe people were tired of the Seth material. Maybe Jane and I had already offered the best we could, for whatever our efforts were worth. [...]

[...] Maybe some day I’ll write in detail about Jane’s and my lives — but not now!

[...] Maybe the whole insurance mess will be reopened in more confusion. [...]

[...] Maybe I should have figured something like that was going on — but on the other hand, how can I be responsible, except possibly in a minor way?

and maybe a crow

[...] Maybe one of the kid’s relatives, or one of the kids.” [...] Maybe it’s the other guy’s.”

(“Maybe a phone call made at this general store, or whatever it is. [...]

[...] Another person says something I’ve forgotten to the idea that… the ocean water or sky, … were dangerous or maybe that it was lightening, but I dismiss this, stand in the bathtub and the water is great, hot and soapy. [...]

5. On our decision—R. finishes “Unknown” Reality—and later Psyche, maybe with my help?

Jane: What I imagine is that in Creative Writing class which consists here today of two people, Charlie’s mother, and Hope W., who is a young gal or a gal in, I don’t know how old, 30 maybe, no, 28. [...]

[...] And it only took maybe 3,4 minutes. [...]

[...] Did get that cry feeling after nap, first time in at least a week, maybe more; it used to be almost a daily affair. [...]

[...] “Still,” I said, “maybe it’s a start. Maybe it’ll lead to something.”)