Sleep story · travel, anonymous
A bus at night, if you are sceptical about all of this — for a restless night
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 lights inside are the dim blue kind that buses use at night. The bus stops and starts with a slow, heavy movement. Your ticket is on the seat beside you, already used.
The heating comes through the floor and makes your feet warm. You are on the top deck of the last bus, in the front seat, with the whole window to yourself. The driver takes the corners slowly, as if the bus were full.
Feel the weight of the blanket on your legs. Let your breathing get slower without deciding to slow it.
Now feel your whole body at once, lying here, being held up. Let the back of your neck lengthen out.
You do not have to get off for another twenty minutes. A streetlight passes across the ceiling every few seconds.
Feel your cheeks let go. Let your forehead go cool and smooth.
Let the pillow take the whole weight of your head. Let your forearms get heavy and warm.
The city goes past below you, shopfronts and bus stops and people waiting for other buses. There are four other people downstairs and nobody up here.
Your elbows can stop being hinges for now. Let your shoulder blades spread out and drop.
There is a long stretch of road ahead with nothing on it. Outside, someone is walking a dog that does not want to be out.
Your jaw can drop slightly. Let your teeth part. Your ankles can go loose now.
If you're replaying a conversation, let it play. It'll finish on its own. If a worry shows up, name it quietly and let it sit beside you.
Let everything you were holding today stay on the floor beside the bed. Notice your hips, wide and settled.
Leave it there. Stay.
You can stop listening properly. Let the breath be the only thing you are doing. Sleep.
Stay with the weight of your body. Let the dark be ordinary. Let the quiet be boring.
Scepticism is welcome. You do not have to believe anything for this to work.
Let this be the last thing you listen to.
18 paragraphs, roughly 3 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for travel, anonymous.
If this story does not settle you, try A library at closing time (a sleep story), when your attention is scattered — for a restless night, Sleep story: a fire dying down, when you are not sure this will work — for jet lag or A boat at anchor (a sleep story), when you are not in the mood — for a night when you do not want to think.