“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(Jane said she’d have a session for me after supper. I replied that it didn’t seem to matter. I was still uncomfortable at session time, still wondering whether my feelings were physical or emotionally based, though somewhat better too. At nap time I’d had a very vivid dream in which I was driving a new blue pickup truck down a hill. I had an accident of some sort that left the truck half hanging off the road over a steep drop to the valley below; I had a view of this from below. No one else was involved in the accident, though, and the truck did stay on the road. As it happened I woke up with a start, feeling at first what I thought was a spasm in my chest, but quickly realized it was a part of my dream reaction. Mixed in here somehow were thoughts I’d been entertaining today about glazing the underpainting for a head I’d done in green a couple of weeks ago. I’d wanted to work on it this morning but had postponed doing so until tomorrow, so I could quit painting early this morning. Strangely, the spasm episode in the dream involved the color effects I knew I’d get when I glazed the painting: I was vividly aware of the texture of the underpainting as the green color was altered into flesh color by the overlay of warm flesh colors in oil.

[...] Order trucks to come and carry the garbage to a trash heap, where you may see it burn and disappear in smoke.

[...] 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. [...]

[...] A pickup truck was parked out there. [...]

[...] Looking out our living room window just then, I saw the service truck from the TV cable company parked there. [...]

(At 9:34 the service truck moved to the back of our house; we could see a man with a flashlight checking wires, etc., but no one knocked on our door. [...]

[...] I did get a brief flash of a long low red truck or car as it pulled up to the curb out front of the house.

(It might be coincidence, but at 7:45 PM a long low red Ford truck pulled up out front, just like the one I saw this morning.

[...] With sirens screeching several cars and trucks sped past on Walnut Street, two doors away. [...]

(The hospital was hardly a quiet place, what with fire trucks and police cars pulling up beneath our window with sirens screeching and wailing, and with people in the hall outside 330 pushing carts that rattled and sounded like a bushel of pots and pans jouncing around — all of this as Jane was ready to begin the session. [...]

[...] I described how Del had driven us around the town and country there in his old pickup truck, and how for a time he and I had become separated from Jane. [...]

[...] Driving or gliding along river road just north of Chemung NY, with fence on my right so that I could not get off the road, I saw sweeping down the hill some distance ahead of me a big tractor-trailer truck—on the wrong side of the road. [...] There was no crash but I was frightened; part of the time I saw the truck through a veil of white. [...]

Either the man is called Mack—I do not know, or there are Mack trucks. [...]

(I asked Seth for his interpretation of my dream on Sunday morning, June 25, in which I was highly upset to see my father careening backward in a truck, down Pinnacle Road. [...]

Now the truck (the sound of one can be heard outside on the street) pauses at the corner. [...]

[...] Describing the location of a certain cove, and underwater cave, Seth used as a starting point a gasoline station and the letters M, A, and C. Seth told us these could be part of the name Mack, or were involved with a Mack truck; he was not sure.

[...] That is why they chase fire trucks, so to speak—not necessarily because they are looking for tragedies, but because of life’s great curiosity, and also because life enjoys variety and the unusual. [...]

[...] No matter how far you journey — on a motorcycle, in a car or plane, or on foot — (gesturing to me as Seth, Jane then changed the sentence) by bicycle or camel, or truck or vessel, still you are the wanderer, and the land or ocean or desert is the environment through which you roam. [...]

The letter itself had been in the mailman’s truck when I made my morning’s predictions.

[...] They even furnished the trucks. [...]

[...] If all a man can do to “prove his value” is to put a bolt in a car, or drive a truck, or even teach a class, then he is very careful that that contribution be noticed, and that a definite value be given it. [...]

(Cars and trucks rumbled and boomed by outside, and Jane sat quietly until the noise subsided somewhat. [...]