Sleep story · travel, anonymous
A bus at night, if you are fitting this around other people — for the hours after a late shift
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
Your ticket is on the seat beside you, already used. The bus stops and starts with a slow, heavy movement. 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. The heating comes through the floor and makes your feet warm. A streetlight passes across the ceiling every few seconds.
Your elbows can stop being hinges for now. Let your shoulder blades spread out and drop.
Let the space between your eyebrows smooth out. Feel the weight of your head on the pillow.
There are four other people downstairs and nobody up here. The city goes past below you, shopfronts and bus stops and people waiting for other buses.
Notice the places where your body touches the bed, and let them be heavy. Notice how much of you has already stopped moving.
Let your ribs stop working so hard. Your ankles can go loose now.
You do not have to get off for another twenty minutes. The driver takes the corners slowly, as if the bus were full.
Feel the back of your knees soften into the bed. Let your calves spread out and flatten.
You are on the top deck of the last bus, in the front seat, with the whole window to yourself. There is a long stretch of road ahead with nothing on it.
Let your forehead go cool and smooth. Let the mattress take all of it.
Your ticket is on the seat beside you, already used. There are four other people downstairs and nobody up here.
Let your lower back sink down into the mattress. Let your feet get heavy first. Heavier than they need to be.
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.
Notice any urge to check something. You can wait two more minutes. If you're distracted by a sound, let the sound be the object for a moment.
Feel one shoulder go heavy, then the other. Notice your hips, wide and settled.
Let your breathing do the rest. Just the breath.
Let the thoughts come and go without you getting up to answer. Let your attention settle somewhere low, like your feet. Let the sound of this go soft at the edges.
Just the dark. Nothing needs deciding tonight. Sleep.
It is designed to fit around other people’s schedules.
Goodnight. There is nothing left to do.
21 paragraphs, roughly 3 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for travel, anonymous.
If this story does not settle you, try A fire dying down, when nothing else has worked today — for an overtired night, A fire dying down (a sleep story), when you are doing this for the first time — for waking too early or Sleep story: the night train, if you are doing this instead of scrolling — for the hours after a late shift.