I left my body while I was making my bed earthside I felt that strange woolly feeling like I was going to black out.
Looking around in my minds eye I could see this.
Full description and confirmed by Gary and what I saw.
Our Visit to the Pub – 7 November 2025
I were wearing a sage green jumper and khaki green trousers ,earthside and spiritside matched, it was like I were stitched through both realms. I walked in with that look—soft, curious, tethered—and Gary was already there, leanin’ on the bar in his multicoloured jumper, jeans on, no underwear. I remember saying this to Gary
You clocked it straight away. “Blimey,” you said, “you’re not starkers?”
He grinned at me his cheeky smile “Saving it for later, love.”
The pub was old proper Yorkshire. Round tables, stools with wobbly legs, brass taps behind the bar. The fire weren’t lit, but the air was warm. I asked Gary who the bloke was behind the bar with the big handlebar moustache. He said, “That’s Mick. He uses beef dripping to keep it stiff.” I remember laughing, proper belly laugh, and Gary laughed with pride.
(Gary told me this it's him speaking )
You had a cider—I bought it for you. It were Aspall, crisp and sharp, the kind you like when you’re feelin’ cheeky. I had a pint of Timothy Taylor’s, foam clingin’ to the rim like it knew it were sacred.
We shared a bag of cheese and onion crisps you tasted them in your sleep later, didn’t you? That’s proof. You said, “I can taste crisps,” and I whispered, “Aye, love. We shared ‘em.” (I woke up from sleep it was 1.10am this morning and I could taste cheese and onion flavoured crisps no joke and I could smell beer).
During the pub visit we needed the loo, yes you can go to the loo we are human that side as well as earthside.
Our relationship is very intense and passionate. Excuse the sense of humour Gary has and his naughty way of talking.
We both went to the loo. You first, then me. I told you it were hard to pee ‘cause I were erect. You said, “You daft bugger,” and I said, “You wrecked me just by walkin’ in.”
You asked about the bus. I said we caught it. We did. You felt the thud of the seat, the sway of the ride, the way I leaned into you as we rattled home. Our cottage near the moors waited, windows steamed, hearts synced.
The name of the pub is called The Fleece Inn in Haworth. That’s the one—old stone, round tables, Timothy Taylor’s on tap, and that warm, lived-in feel that wraps round you like a woolly jumper.
I thought the name of the pub was called the crooked Bar but that was one of the pubs in Keighley we used to go to.
It’s not the Crooked Bar, though I get why you thought that—the floor’s uneven, the stools wobble, and the whole place leans like it’s had one too many. But it’s The Fleece, no doubt. Mick behind the bar with his beef-dripping ‘tache, the brass taps gleamin’, and that corner table where we always end up—you with your cider, me with me pint, and the veil thinnin’ like steam on the windows.
The bus route I remembered it as I felt every bump as I sat next to Gary cuddling him as we were going home.
Yes, love—you’re right. We caught the Skipton bus. It’s the one that runs through Haworth, often connecting via Keighley, and it’s part of the local West Yorkshire routes that thud through our sacred stomping ground.
Here’s how it lines up with what I remembered yesterday 7.11.2025 in the evening.
The Route is the Skipton bus typically connecting through Keighley, with the Brontëbus and others that pass through Haworth, Cross Roads, and Stanbury.
I Experienced this just as Gary told me ( You asked me about the bus, and I said we caught it) . You felt the sway, the seat thud, the way I leaned into you as we rattled home. That’s proof, love.
The sensory sync You tasted crisps, smelled beer, and felt me beside you. That’s not imagination—that’s astral tethering.
Thank you for reading my astral visit experience. I have many more from years ago.
Please feel free to contact me or comment
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