“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

First, the dream. Ruburt saw you and he standing in the middle of an infinite plain of sand. The sands were marked with names and messages. To the left and to the right there were mountains of sand. To the left he saw people approaching the sands upon which he stood. To the right people were leaving the plains of sand, yet the plain itself was empty, filled only with the messages that were written there.

Now, Ruburt has had the first of the seven dreams. (See the 497th session, for July 7, 1969.) It is the dream of the sands, and I mentioned the series of dreams earlier. I want to give you an explanation of that dream.

Two things in the dream held him back: a gigantic nostalgia for the writings in the sand that had remained for so long, the jottings of children—and for a moment he did not want to be part of anything that would wipe them out. He wondered aloud in the dream whether or not you and he should really be there: what credentials you had that would give you the right to make new footprints.

When he begins to walk across the sand, and you with him, new messages will appear there. They will be a signal for those people on the left. In your terms those people will be drastically different than those who have gone before. They will not walk upon the old ideas nor dwell within their reality.

(“Outside there were huge flower pots resembling these, but not filled with sand for cigarettes. [Presumably, they were filled with sand or dirt for the plants.])

With a floor not of wood, perhaps of cement, but of a stone, definitely a stone or sand colored stone floor.

Outside of their door, I believe, a large bucket of sorts, filled with sand for cigarettes, fairly good size.

[...] Some may be filled with soft grasses, innocent of sand.

Now this first island is very clever indeed, and so it sends its spirit wandering to the closest counterpart, and says: “You are myself, but without sand or palm trees.”

[...] I would no more be a dull island of only sand and palms, or a neurotic landscape of burning lava, any more than I would be a snail. [...]

[...] (Slowly now:) It can, if it chooses, allow soft sands to lie gracefully upon its cooling expanse.

[...] A warmth that forms the very pulse of physical existence and yet is born from the devotion of our isolation; that is born from the creativity that is beyond flesh and bone, that forms fingers without feeling fingers, that forms seasons without knowing spring, that creates sand without knowing sand or ground, that creates the reality that you know without experiencing it, that forms fathers, sons and daughters and mothers without knowing what fathers and mothers and daughters and sons are, and yet from this devotion, from that creativity comes all that you know. [...]

[...] You are afraid your house rests on shifting sands. [...]

[...] The personality is multidimensional, even though many people hide their heads, figuratively speaking, in the sand of three-dimensional existence and pretend there is nothing more.

(Humorously): In this book I hope to pull some heads out of the sand. [...]

(Monday, May 11, 9:50 PM, after Monday’s brief session: I had brief glimpses of many things, including this symbol, drawn in wet dark sand at water’s edge. [...]

[...] Perhaps of cement—but of a stone, definitely a stone (Jane gestured, eyes closed, as though trying to pin down her thought) or sand-colored stone floor.

Outside of their door, I believe, a large bucket of sorts filled with sand for cigarettes. [...]

And a sand or beach behind them. [...]

[...] Sand dunes of a sort. [...]

[...] He interpreted this however in his own way, as saltwater, and the photograph was taken by the ocean, with rocks and sand, and the sand, you see, was picked up because of the grains.

[...] Your main hope and desire now is for inner security that you are not on shifting sands. Remember you form the sands that shift, and in yourself you will find the answers if you are not impatient. [...]

[...] At 11:00 this morning I’d about decided the hill was too dangerous to drive; I thought of calling the nursing station at A-3. Then the sand truck came. [...]

[...] You chose to become involved in your circle of acquaintanceships with those who have followed one particular line to the ultimate, where belief disappears like the shifting sand until there is no framework upon which the present personality can stand and until, in desperation, the individual leaves this plane of existence where on another level of reality purposes are then made known. [...]

[...] Peculiarly, she had a mental image which she described now; while speaking for Seth she had seen, in color, blue water as in an ocean, and white sand and two people running toward the beach in bathing suits. [...]

[...] And sand or a beach behind them. [...]

[...] As solid as it seems to you, there are constant chemical reactions between it and the world, electromagnetic adjustments, alterations of balance, changes of relationships—alterations that occur between the body and its relationship with every other physical event, from the position of the planets and moon and the sun, to the position of the smallest grain of sand, to the tiniest microbe in anyone’s intestine (intently).

[...] There are sand dunes of a sort. [...]

[...] Numerous sand dunes were nearby and wooden posts, exactly as described, were scattered along the dunes.

[...] It is aware of the position of each grain of sand on the shores of each ocean, and in those terms it forms a portion of the earth’s consciousness.

Many believe that it is a time of spiritual and/or physical deterioration, an era in which all those hard-won attributes of maturity vanish, and the reasoning faculties disappear like grains of sand held too long by the thinking hands of the mind.