A caravan by the sea (a sleep story), when you have just finished work — for a restless night

The story, in full

The whole caravan smells of salt, gas and clean bedding. The bed folds out of the seating area and takes up most of the floor. The curtains are thin, and the moon makes a pale rectangle on the floor.

The window over the sink has a small crack in the corner that has been there for years. A clock on the wall ticks with a slight rattle on every second. The caravan rocks very slightly in the wind, which is more comforting than it sounds.

Let your palms open if they were closed. Let your tongue sit heavy in your mouth.

Let your forearms get heavy and warm. Let the back of your neck lengthen out.

There is a gas ring, a kettle, and two cups, one of which is a different pattern. You can hear the shingle moving as the waves pull back.

Let your feet get heavy first. Heavier than they need to be. Feel your heartbeat somewhere far away.

Notice the places where your body touches the bed, and let them be heavy. Feel your wrists loosen.

The wind pushes against the side of the caravan in long, slow gusts. The sea is about fifty metres away, over a bank of shingle.

Your mind will leave about a hundred times. Come back about a hundred times. If you're replaying a conversation, let it play. It'll finish on its own.

Feel the weight of the blanket on your legs. Let everything you were holding today stay on the floor beside the bed.

Nothing needs deciding tonight. You do not have to count them.

Let the next part go past without you. Nothing here needs following closely. Let your attention settle somewhere low, like your feet.

The gap right after work is the easiest one to use.

Let everything get quiet, including this.

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