Sleep story · water, slow
A boat at anchor, when the weather has kept you inside — for an overtired night
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. Everything in the cabin is stowed, so nothing rattles. Nothing out here is in a rush, and neither are you.
The rope to the anchor creaks as the boat turns very slightly. There is a torch hanging by the hatch, and a chart folded on the table. The harbour is behind you, with three lights still on and the rest dark.
Notice how much of you has already stopped moving. Let everything you were holding today stay on the floor beside the bed.
Feel one shoulder go heavy, then the other. Feel your belly rise and fall without any help from you.
The blanket smells faintly of salt and diesel. The boat is anchored in eight metres of water, and the chain makes a sound as it moves.
Your jaw can drop slightly. Let your teeth part. Feel the top of your head relax into the pillow.
Notice how quickly your mind labels things: good, bad, boring, nice. If you feel emotional, you don't have to explain it to anyone, including yourself.
Notice your hips, wide and settled. Your chest can be still now.
Nothing needs deciding tonight. Stay.
Let your attention settle somewhere low, like your feet. Let the dark be ordinary. Let the thoughts come and go without you getting up to answer.
Bad weather is a decent excuse to stay in and do this.
Let everything get quiet, including this.
12 paragraphs, roughly 2 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for water, slow.
If this story does not settle you, try Sleep story: a lake before dawn, when you are short on time — for a restless night, A bus at night — a slow story for the end of the day, when you want to be left alone — for a restless night or A lake before dawn (a sleep story), after a long day — for an overtired night.