Sleep story · sea, simple
A caravan by the sea (a sleep story), when you are not sure this will work — for a racing mind
Thin walls, wind outside, and the sound of shingle about fifty metres away.
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 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 curtains are thin, and the moon makes a pale rectangle on the floor.
The sea is about fifty metres away, over a bank of shingle. A clock on the wall ticks with a slight rattle on every second. The wind pushes against the side of the caravan in long, slow gusts.
Feel your wrists loosen. Let your calves spread out and flatten.
Feel the back of your knees soften into the bed. Let your forehead go cool and smooth.
The whole caravan smells of salt, gas and clean bedding. The caravan rocks very slightly in the wind, which is more comforting than it sounds.
Let your feet get heavy first. Heavier than they need to be. Let your thighs be as heavy as they want to be.
Your chest can be still now. Notice your hips, wide and settled.
The bed folds out of the seating area and takes up most of the floor. You can hear the shingle moving as the waves pull back.
Let your breathing get slower without deciding to slow it. Let the back of your neck lengthen out.
Everything you need is within two metres of where you are lying. The window over the sink has a small crack in the corner that has been there for years.
Notice how much of you has already stopped moving. Your fingers can stop doing anything at all.
If nothing much is happening, that's not a problem. Nothing much is often the point. If you're counting the minutes, that's fine. Count them and come back.
Let your toes stop holding on to anything. Feel your heartbeat somewhere far away.
Let the sound of this go soft at the edges. Let the next part go past without you.
Just the weight. Stay. Let the dark be ordinary.
Stay with the weight of your body. Nothing here needs following closely. Slower.
Not being sure it will work is a perfectly good reason to try it once.
Let the words go now, and take the quiet with you.
18 paragraphs, roughly 3 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for sea, simple.
If this story does not settle you, try A garden in the rain (a sleep story), when you are somewhere noisy — for winding down, A caravan by the sea — a slow story for the end of the day, when you are somewhere noisy — for waking too early or An attic room, if you are doing this instead of scrolling — for a restless night.