“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(Last night I had a very vivid dream in which I sold three of my paintings. One of them was one of the last I’ve painted before Jane went into the hospital. I sold it for $30.00 to an older man who returned to my outside wall, where I had my work hung several times before he decided to buy it. I was quite pleased. It’s the little painting of a dream of my own, in which I stand on the close edge of a roof, looking down into a city street.

[...] This was the one you sold, of the man that hung for some time in the position in which my portrait now hangs. [...]

[...] Naturally, the painting was sold before we had any conscious awareness of its import. [...]

[...] He sold the house on the one hand to make money, and on the other hand he sold it to do penance because in his own way he loved it. [...]

[...] It was not because he did not care for the house, but because he did care that he sold it.

You have already sold a painting, and will learn of it shortly.

[...] Imagine yourself wondering what to put there now that the painting has sold. [...]

[...] Imagine someone asking you if you have sold any paintings lately. [...]

[...] (Books have sold very well since November. [...]

[...] You would not take your art to the marketplace after you left commercial work, because then, in a manner of speaking, now, understand, you considered that the act of a prostitute — for your “feminine feelings” that you felt produced the paintings would then be sold for the sake of “the male’s role as provider and bringer of power.”

[...] And, incidentally, in spite of my feelings about the marketplace, I’ve sold a number of paintings over the years…. [...]

[...] He sold most of his stories to Fantasy & Science Fiction Magazine when Boucher was the editor. [...]

[...] He learned that his work must be sold in the marketplace if he wanted to continue writing. [...]

[...] He hasn’t gotten a guitar yet—he’d sold the old one years ago, thinking he’d never be good enough to become a professional. [...]

(As for the food and vitamin material, I’ve become less and less insistent that Jane adhere to any kind of regular program, since I think she continues to show that she’s not really sold on such therapy. [...]

(There follows a copy of my dream of Thursday night, October 21, as taken from my dream notebook: “I dreamed briefly that the first of the two short stories Jane has sold has now been published—The Big Freeze, I believe—and that as a result Jane can now get paid for it.” [...]

[...] At least one before the publication of the other story that has already been sold.

[...] This, all after we’ve found a suitable place and have sold our house in Elmira on 1730 Pinnacle Road. [...]

[...] It is instead to understand it, its needs and motives, and to communicate the idea that it was sold a bad bill of goods in childhood—scared out of its wits, maligned. [...]

Now because of your latent (underlined) interest in the medical profession, you have sold to hospitals in the past, commercially and you have sold paintings to dentists. [...]

You knew you were an artist, whether you sold or not, or whatever you did. [...]

[...] The obnoxious dealer told me that he’d sold the car to the family, and had set aside an identical green car for me.

[...] Venice and Howard sold their house on the same day the cancer was found. [...]

[...] The hill property will be sold, or used for collateral. Stocks will be sold. [...]

Tam instantly saw the quality in our work, and Ruburt’s. In the beginning only his enthusiasm sold our first book. [...]

[...] Prentice does not understand why the books have sold. [...]

[...] I also understood as we talked that when Jane’s grandfather had wanted to move out of the house on Middle Avenue, he had sold all the furniture and had the utilities turned off. [...]

[...] It will be based upon the conception of my painting of 1954 that I “sold to Sonja.” [...]

[...] The set of eight volumes will be called The Early Sessions, and will be sold by subscription only, at least in the beginning.