Dimensions: A Casebook of Alien Contact - Above Top Secret

"in smooth English." They did not speak to our scientists; they did not send sophisticated signals inuniquely decipherable codes as any well-behaved alien should before daring to penetrate our solarsystem. No, they picked Gary Wilcox instead. And Joe Simonton. And Maurice Masse. What didthey say? That they were from Mars. That they were our neighbors. And, above all, that they weresuperior to us, that we must obey them. That they were good. Go to Valensole and ask Masse. Hewill tell you, perhaps, as he told me, how puzzled he was when suddenly, without warning, he feltinside himself a warm, comforting feeling – how good they were, our good neighbors. The GoodPeople. They took a great interest in the affairs of men, and they always stood for justice and right.They could appear in different forms.With them Joe Simonton exchanged food. So, in times gone by, did Irishmen, who talked to similarbeings. In those days, too, they were called the Good People and, in Scotland, the Good Neighbors,the Sleagh Maith. What did they say, then?"We are far superior to you." "We could cut off half the human race."It does begin to make sense. These were the facts we have missed, without which we could neverpiece the UFO jigsaw together. Priests and scholars left books about the legends of their timeconcerning these beings. These books had to be found, collected, and studied. Together, thesestories presented a coherent picture of the appearance, the organization, and the methods of ourstrange visitors. The appearance was – does this surprise you? - exactly that of today's UFO pilots.The methods were the same. There was the sudden vision of brilliant "houses" at night, houses thatcould fly, that contained peculiar lamps, radiant lights that needed no fuel. The creatures couldparalyze their witnesses and translate them through time. They hunted animals and took awaypeople.In The Magic Casement, a book edited by Alfred Noyes about 1910, I find this little poem byWilliam Allingham, which I invite all ufologists to learn as a tribute to Joe Simonton:Up the airy mountain,Down the rushy glen,We daren't go a-huntingFor fear of little men;Wee folk, good folk,Trooping all together;Green jacket, red cap,And white owl's feather!Down along the rocky shoreSome make their home,They live on crispy pancakesOf yellow tide-foam;Some in the reedsOf the black mountain-lake,With frogs for their watch-dogs,All night awake.3. The Secret CommonwealthWe are progressing, step by step, in a forest of reports and facts obscured by speculations andtheories. I am trying to clear the underbrush. In the previous two chapters, order has begun toemerge. It is reassuring to find the phenomenon follows certain laws, however bizzare, and that ithas puzzled our ancestors as much as it challenges us.It would be a grave mistake to believe that we, in the late twentieth century, are the first people