“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(Then, Alice Potter and I were driving down Route 17 to Sayre. She was very sympathetic to me, and I may have forgotten the reasons. I believe she was wearing a nightgown but am not positive. Alice parked the car in front of my parents’ home in Sayre, put her arm around my shoulder and said something. I then got out of the car and she drove away. I saw my parents’ home clearly there on Wilbur Avenue, but I did not go into it. Instead I started walking up Mohawk Street, around the corner toward Keystone Avenue, a block away. I was going to a theatre, a big one, on the corner of Keystone and Mohawk, though actually none exists there. I was now in striped pajamas. [I have none like this.] I was well covered by the pajamas, which were loose and baggy, and not at all nude.

(Next I was walking up the center aisle of the darkened, crowded movie theatre, still in my pajamas but not at all embarrassed or concerned that others would or could see me. The place was dark of course but I could see well enough. I was looking for someone or something I could not find.

(Then the show was over and the crowds were leaving the theatre. It was night outside, and I was sitting on the green grass in front of the theatre, beside Mohawk St., again quite unconcerned as many well-dressed people passed me by. I still wore the pajamas and was quite in possession of myself.

You then found yourself, in the dream, wearing pajamas, first though deposited in front of your parent’s home, but not entering. [...] But just immediately preceding birth you find yourself in the dream wearing pajamas, entering a theatre, looking for someone.

The pajamas merely represented symbolically your refusal to admit the fact of, first, nakedness; to hold off birth, to gaze about in the theatre of existence before permitting yourself to be born again on the physical plane, this deliberation always having been somewhat a portion of your makeup.

[...] He thought, for example, of his own pajamas that he wears now instead of the jeans he wore before, and it seemed to him that in all his strivings he had in one way or another also acted like your friend whose jeans kept turning into the Turkish towel: he had been trying to protect an important way of relating to the world, or to protect a way of life. [...]

[...] He is in a robe, slippers and pajamas, with a door behind him. [...]