A caravan by the sea (a sleep story), if you are

The story, in full

There is a gas ring, a kettle, and two cups, one of which is a different pattern. There is a torch by the door in case you need to walk to the toilets in the night. The window over the sink has a small crack in the corner that has been there for years.

The wind pushes against the side of the caravan in long, slow gusts. The curtains are thin, and the moon makes a pale rectangle on the floor. A clock on the wall ticks with a slight rattle on every second.

Your fingers can stop doing anything at all. Let your forehead go cool and smooth.

Let your tongue sit heavy in your mouth. Feel your belly rise and fall without any help from you.

The bed folds out of the seating area and takes up most of the floor. The caravan rocks very slightly in the wind, which is more comforting than it sounds.

Let your toes stop holding on to anything. Let your palms open if they were closed.

If you've lost track of where we were, you haven't lost anything important. Notice how quickly your mind labels things: good, bad, boring, nice.

Let your lower back sink down into the mattress. Feel your wrists loosen.

Slower now. Follow the breath out, and let the next one arrive by itself.

Let it all get further away. Almost nothing to do now. Let the room get slightly further away.

Nothing here assumes you have done this before.

Let everything get quiet, including this.

12 paragraphs, roughly 2 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for sea, simple.