by Ingo Swann

When famed psychic researcher Ingo Swann was contacted by a mysterious “deep black” agency, he couldn’t have imagined he was about to enter one of the most astonishing chapters of his life. What started as covert trials in telepathy and remote viewing soon brought him face-to-face with an intelligence that was – by any measure – not human.

Escorted first to a hidden facility near Washington, D.C., and later to an isolated Arctic location to observe an incoming UFO, Swann was confronted with revelations about the Moon, extraterrestrial consciousness, and the far-reaching capacities of the human mind.

In Penetration, a gripping, firsthand narrative, an excerpt which follows, Swann delves into alien telepathy, the intentional suppression of psychic knowledge, and humanity’s untapped ability to communicate across dimensions. His narrative juxtaposes the government’s attempted suppression against a sweeping explosive non-stoppable exploration of consciousness, remote viewing, and how dangerously close he comes to the edge.

HUMANOIDS ON THE MOON

Back at work, Axel gave me Moon coordinates, each set representing specific locations on the Moon’s surface.

At some of the locations there seemed to be nothing to see except Moonscapes.

But at other locations? – well there were confusions, and I perceived a lot that I could not understand at all. I made a lot of sketches, identifying them as this or that, or looking like something else. Without comments, Axelrod quickly took possession of each sketch, and I was never to see them again.

I found towers, machinery, lights of different colors, strange-looking “buildings.”

I found bridges whose function I couldn’t figure out. One of them just arched out – and never landed anywhere. There were a lot of domes of various sizes, round things, things like small saucers with windows. These were stored next to crater sides, sometimes in caves, sometimes in what looked like airfield hangars.

I had problems estimating sizes. But some of the “things” were very large.

I found long tube-like things, machinery-tractor-like things going up and down hills, straight roads extending some miles, obelisks which had no apparent function.

There were large platforms on domes, large cross-like structures.

Holes being dug into crater walls and floors obviously having to do with some kind of mining or earth-moving operations.

There were “nets” over craters, “houses” in which someone obviously lived, except that I couldn’t see who – save in one case.

In THAT case, I saw some kind of people busy at work on something I could not figure out. The place was dark. The “air” was filled with a fine dust, and there was some kind of illumination – like a dark lime-green fog or mist.

The thing about them was that they either were human or looked exactly like us – but they were all males, as I could well see since they were all butt-ass naked. I had absolutely no idea why. They seemed to be digging into a hillside or a cliff.

As I described, “They must have some way of creating a good environment, warm and with air in it. But why would they be going around naked?” No answer was forthcoming to this self-question.

But being there in my psychic state, as I felt I was, some of those guys started talking excitedly and gesticulating. Two of them pointed in my “direction.”

Immediately I felt like “running away” and hiding, which I guess I psychically did, since I “lost” sight of this particular imaging.

“I think they have spotted me, Axel. They were pointing at me I think. How could they do that . . . unless . . . they have some kind of high psychic perceptions, too?”

Axel said, in a calm, low voice, so low I hardly heard it at first. “Please quickly come away from that place.”

My eyes were wide as understanding drained in. “You already know they are psychic, don’t you?” Axel raised his eyebrows and gave a deep sigh.

And, at that point, he abruptly closed his folders. “I think we had better end our work here.”

I was quite surprised. But I had not fallen off the psychic truck just yesterday. “You think, you already KNOW, that they have some kind of, uh, telepathy – that they can trace where this psychic probe is coming from? Is that it?”

Axel had started smiling again, but obviously was not going to respond. “Come on, Axel, loosen up a little.”

But I was not to be deterred. “Would they kill an Earth-psychic if they felt he or she was good enough to spy on them?”

“There is no conclusive evidence to suggest that,” Axel responded. I gritted my teeth. “No ‘conclusive’ evidence! What the hell does THAT mean?” My voice had climbed several octaves.

“It’s very difficult for us to assess any of this,” Axelrod began. “We don’t know, but that they do have things and capabilities we here are trying to understand is very apparent. Whether they spotted you or not will be unclear, but we have to put no prejudgments on what guides our mission.

“At any rate, we don’t want to put you to any more risk. Let’s eat some dinner, and then get you back to New York.

“I’m afraid we have to repeat the process used to get you out of here. I hope you don’t mind. We are very grateful.”

“RISK!!! What do you mean by RISK?”

I could see that Axelrod was prepared to be noncommittal. So I took the initiative. “If it’s telepathy, then it’s a different kind, at least from how it is understood here on Earth. It’s NOT just telepathy, either.”

THIS got his attention. He looked at me in surprise. “What do you mean?”

At this, I FINALLY comprehended that his earlier interest in telepathy had not been just innocent chit-chat.

“Well, I don’t know exactly. It’s more than just mind-to-mind. It’s like, well . . .”. I was grasping for words. “Well, when they ‘saw’ me, they couldn’t really see me, could they? What, then were they seeing? I’m asking myself this, Axel?”

“Yes, go on,” he said.

“Well, it’s more like they were . . . FEELING rather than seeing or picking up on mind vibes. It’s more like it was, yes, sort of a dimensional thing – rather, sort of like a ripple in some kind of cross-dimensionality. Yes! That’s it! They FELT something. Not particularly ME. But SOMETHING.

I paused: “And THEY knew what the ripple meant. Like a sort of penetration of where they were.” I paused, then said in a self-introspecting way: “WOW!”

Axelrod sat quietly, as was his way, looking at me. Then: “Why did you say WOW?”

“Ah! Well, if I can articulate it . . . it was like there is a sort of . . . cross-dimensional . . . Well, if you can imagine that you feel a presence but can’t see it, it was something like that.

“Only those guys . . . they were going to hone in on it, at least that’s the best way to describe it.”

Axelrod was silent for a moment. “So, you are referring to telepathy plus something else?”

“No, not exactly. Perhaps SOMETHING ELSE plus telepathy. It’s the other way around. After all, the basis for telepathy has to come from something – rather, because of something.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, nothing happens all by itself. There are always processes involved. This is to say, things happen by way of something. Nothing comes out of thin air. It’s hard to articulate in simple three-dimensional terms. Mind-to-mind is a three-dimensional construct. But what if . . . “

Axelrod interrupted. “Why would mind-to-mind be a three-dimensional . . .?”

“Well, one mind existing as a three-dimensional thing communicating with another which is also a three-dimensional thing, and the communicating across the distance . . . is not the distance involved conceived of in three-dimensional terms?

“The PHYSICAL universe is three-dimensional – not the mental universe. Here is one of the big flaws in all theories about Psi. Everyone thinks of Psi ONLY in three-dimensional terms.” I ran out of words at this point.

Axelrod was looking at me with his calm, unblinking eyes. But he was lightly drumming his fingers on the table. I knew I had hit something of concern. And his next comment proved it.

“Could you write down your ideas along these lines?”

I could. I did. I remember producing fifteen hand-written pages.

After this somewhat inscrutable advisory, there came a handshake, the hood, a chopper ride, and by the twins [escorts] and the same car I was delivered back to the center of Washington and let off at the train station at my request. The twins said no more than they had to. I found myself wondering if they actually came from the Moon.

I spent the next few months wondering if the ETs were going to find me and zap my brains out of existence.

When I left Mr. Axelrod’s carefully hidden establishment, he reminded me of my pledged ten years of confidentiality.

“Not to worry, Axel,” I replied, “I have no intention of demolishing my official research work by introducing something so far out as claiming I have seen extraterrestrials working away on the Moon. No one would believe me anyway.”

I have abided by that promise, well past the ten-year mark. The reasons I have now decided to write about all this will become clear in later chapters.

Excerpt from Penetration: The Question Of Extraterrestrial And Human Telepathy

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