Sleep story · travel, anonymous
A bus at night (a sleep story), if you are new to this — for waking too early
Upper deck, front seat, a city going past that you do not have to join.
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 driver takes the corners slowly, as if the bus were full. Outside, someone is walking a dog that does not want to be out. The bus stops and starts with a slow, heavy movement.
The heating comes through the floor and makes your feet warm. There is a long stretch of road ahead with nothing on it. You are on the top deck of the last bus, in the front seat, with the whole window to yourself.
Let your forehead go cool and smooth. Notice how much of you has already stopped moving.
Feel your cheeks let go. Let the space between your eyebrows smooth out.
The city goes past below you, shopfronts and bus stops and people waiting for other buses. A streetlight passes across the ceiling every few seconds.
Notice your hips, wide and settled. Let your toes stop holding on to anything.
Your fingers can stop doing anything at all. Let everything you were holding today stay on the floor beside the bed.
The lights inside are the dim blue kind that buses use at night. There are four other people downstairs and nobody up here.
Let your thumbs rest where they landed. Let your hands be completely still.
Your ticket is on the seat beside you, already used. You do not have to get off for another twenty minutes.
Let the mattress take all of it. Let your shoulder blades spread out and drop.
The driver takes the corners slowly, as if the bus were full. You are on the top deck of the last bus, in the front seat, with the whole window to yourself.
Let your thighs be as heavy as they want to be. Feel the top of your head relax into the pillow.
The lights inside are the dim blue kind that buses use at night. Outside, someone is walking a dog that does not want to be out.
Notice if you're waiting for something to happen. Nothing is scheduled. If you're judging your performance, that's the same habit as judging everything else.
Your jaw can drop slightly. Let your teeth part. Your ankles can go loose now.
Follow the breath out, and let the next one arrive by itself. Let it all get further away.
Let the breath be the only thing you are doing. The words can start to blur now. Slower.
Just the breath. They will find their own way out. Just the dark.
Nothing here assumes you have done this before.
Let everything get quiet, including this.
21 paragraphs, roughly 3 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for travel, anonymous.
If this story does not settle you, try A garden in the rain — a slow story for the end of the day, if you are new to this — for the hours after a late shift, Sleep story: a field under snow, when you have just finished work — for an overtired night or A bus at night, when you are short on time — for a night when you do not want to think.