Sleep story · travel, anonymous
A bus at night, if you are sceptical about all of 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
There is a long stretch of road ahead with nothing on it. 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.
A streetlight passes across the ceiling every few seconds. The heating comes through the floor and makes your feet warm. The bus stops and starts with a slow, heavy movement.
Notice how much of you has already stopped moving. Let your toes stop holding on to anything.
Let your thumbs rest where they landed. Let your calves spread out and flatten.
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.
Feel one shoulder go heavy, then the other. Let your feet get heavy first. Heavier than they need to be.
Your fingers can stop doing anything at all. Let your lower back sink down into the mattress.
You do not have to get off for another twenty minutes. Outside, someone is walking a dog that does not want to be out.
Your eyelids can be too heavy to open, and that is fine. Your ankles can go loose now.
Your ticket is on the seat beside you, already used. The lights inside are the dim blue kind that buses use at night.
Let the space between your eyebrows smooth out. Feel the weight of your head on the pillow.
Notice if your attention is in the future. Bring it back to the room. Notice the difference between a thought and the space around it.
Notice your hips, wide and settled. Your elbows can stop being hinges for now.
Just the dark. Let the thoughts come and go without you getting up to answer.
Let your breathing do the rest. Slower. Let the quiet be boring.
Nothing needs deciding tonight. Let the room get slightly further away. Nothing here needs following closely.
Scepticism is welcome. You do not have to believe anything for this to work.
The room is dark, the day is finished, and nothing is required of you.
18 paragraphs, roughly 3 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for travel, anonymous.