Sleep story · sea, simple
A caravan by the sea (a sleep story), when you are not sure this will work — for an overtired night
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
Everything you need is within two metres of where you are lying. There is a gas ring, a kettle, and two cups, one of which is a different pattern. A clock on the wall ticks with a slight rattle on every second.
The bed folds out of the seating area and takes up most of the floor. The whole caravan smells of salt, gas and clean bedding. The curtains are thin, and the moon makes a pale rectangle on the floor.
Let your forehead go cool and smooth. Notice how much of you has already stopped moving.
Let the back of your neck lengthen out. Let your palms open if they were closed.
There is a torch by the door in case you need to walk to the toilets in the night. The sea is about fifty metres away, over a bank of shingle.
Notice your hips, wide and settled. Notice the places where your body touches the bed, and let them be heavy.
Feel your heartbeat somewhere far away. Let your toes stop holding on to anything.
The wind pushes against the side of the caravan in long, slow gusts. You can hear the shingle moving as the waves pull back.
Your fingers can stop doing anything at all. Let the space between your eyebrows smooth out.
The caravan rocks very slightly in the wind, which is more comforting than it sounds. The window over the sink has a small crack in the corner that has been there for years.
Feel your cheeks let go. Let your hands be completely still.
If you're counting the minutes, that's fine. Count them and come back. If you're sleepy, sit up a little. Or let the sleepiness be there.
Let your feet get heavy first. Heavier than they need to be. Your chest can be still now.
Let the quiet be boring. Let your attention settle somewhere low, like your feet.
You do not have to count them. Slower. Stay with the weight of your body.
You can stop listening properly. They will find their own way out. Let the next part go past without you.
Not being sure it will work is a perfectly good reason to try it once.
No more sentences. Just the weight of you in the bed.
18 paragraphs, roughly 3 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for sea, simple.
If this story does not settle you, try A kitchen late at night (a sleep story), when you have been on screens all day — for an overtired night, A lighthouse at the end of a long day — a slow story for the end of the day, when you want something simple — for jet lag or A garden in the rain, when you feel fine and want to stay that way — for waking too early.