Sleep story · water, slow
A boat at anchor for a racing mind
A small harbour, a rope that creaks, and a boat that moves about a metre in the night.
Lights off. Press begin and let the story read itself to you, at the pace of sleep.
Screen on or off — we suggest dimming it, or simply closing your eyes after the first paragraph.
The story, in full
Nothing out here is in a rush, and neither are you. The harbour is behind you, with three lights still on and the rest dark. The hull moves against the water in a slow, regular way.
Through the hatch you can see one star, and then the mast crossing it. The water slaps against the side in twos and threes. The blanket smells faintly of salt and diesel.
Let your ribs stop working so hard. Let your hands be completely still.
Let your thumbs rest where they landed. Let your breathing get slower without deciding to slow it.
The rope to the anchor creaks as the boat turns very slightly. The cabin is low, and you have to bend your head to get into the bunk.
Feel your heartbeat somewhere far away. Let your forehead go cool and smooth.
If you're sleepy, sit up a little. Or let the sleepiness be there. If your mind has wandered, that's not a mistake. Noticing is the practice.
Feel your cheeks let go. Feel the weight of your head on the pillow.
Sleep. Almost nothing to do now.
Let it all get further away. You can stop listening properly. They will find their own way out.
Five quiet minutes is enough. Ten is generous.
Let this be the last thing you listen to.
12 paragraphs, roughly 2 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for water, slow.
If this story does not settle you, try Sleep story: a field under snow, if you are new to this — for an overtired night, The house after everyone is asleep or Sleep story: a fire dying down for winding down.