Sleep story · water, slow
A boat at anchor — a slow story for the end of the day, when you are on your own — for jet lag
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
The cabin is low, and you have to bend your head to get into the bunk. The blanket smells faintly of salt and diesel. The hull moves against the water in a slow, regular way.
The bunk is narrow, and you have the whole of it. The boat is anchored in eight metres of water, and the chain makes a sound as it moves. Through the hatch you can see one star, and then the mast crossing it.
Your elbows can stop being hinges for now. Your chest can be still now.
Let your hands be completely still. Feel your belly rise and fall without any help from you.
Everything in the cabin is stowed, so nothing rattles. The harbour is behind you, with three lights still on and the rest dark.
Feel the weight of the blanket on your legs. Feel the top of your head relax into the pillow.
Let the space between your eyebrows smooth out. Let your thighs be as heavy as they want to be.
The rope to the anchor creaks as the boat turns very slightly. Nothing out here is in a rush, and neither are you.
If your body wants to move, let it move, then come back. You might be planning something. Notice the planning, then come back.
Let the mattress take all of it. Let your toes stop holding on to anything.
Stay. Slower now.
They will find their own way out. Let each breath be a little smaller than the last. Stay with the weight of your body.
Being on your own is not required, but it does make this simpler.
That is the end of the story. Sleep is the next part, and it does not need instructions.
14 paragraphs, roughly 2 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for water, slow.