“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

Four o’clock in the afternoon is a very handy reference. You can say to a friend, “I will meet you at four o’clock at the corner,” or at a restaurant, for a drink or a chat or a meal, and your friend will know precisely where and when he will find you. This will happen despite the fact that four o’clock in the afternoon has no basic meaning, but is an agreed-upon designation — a gentlemen’s agreement, if you prefer. If you attend the theatre at nine o’clock in the evening, but the actions of the play take place within the morning hours, and the actors are shown eating breakfast, you accept the time as given within the theatre’s play. You also pretend that it is morning.

Though I use the analogy here of a drama, these “plays” are highly spontaneous affairs in which the actors have full freedom within the play’s framework. And granting these assumptions that have been stated, there are no rehearsals. There are observers, as you will see later in our book. As in any good theatre production, there is an overall theme within each play. The great artists, for example, did not emerge out of a particular time simply because they were born into it, or (because) the conditions were favorable.

(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 was going to a theatre, a big one, on the corner of Keystone and Mohawk, though actually none exists there. [...]

(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. [...]

[...] 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.

The selected newscasts shown in theatres in the Second World War were quite censored, but the aggressive press and its corps do now indeed serve in their own way as an invisible “police force.” [...]

It is true that physical stimuli may signal a dream, but the stimuli, the physical stimuli, does not actually signal the beginning of the dream; but it calls your attention to the dream, which has been in progress, as if you walked into a darkened theatre and began to see portions of a production which had been going on.