Sleep story · sea, simple
A caravan by the sea, if you are fitting this around other people — for the hours after a late shift
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 torch by the door in case you need to walk to the toilets in the night. There is a gas ring, a kettle, and two cups, one of which is a different pattern. The wind pushes against the side of the caravan in long, slow gusts.
The bed folds out of the seating area and takes up most of the floor. A clock on the wall ticks with a slight rattle on every second. The sea is about fifty metres away, over a bank of shingle.
Let your feet get heavy first. Heavier than they need to be. Let your shoulder blades spread out and drop.
Feel the weight of your head on the pillow. Feel your heartbeat somewhere far away.
The caravan rocks very slightly in the wind, which is more comforting than it sounds. Everything you need is within two metres of where you are lying.
Let your palms open if they were closed. Notice how much of you has already stopped moving.
If you feel numb, that's a valid thing to feel. Nothing to fix. If a song is stuck in your head, let it play in the background.
Let the back of your neck lengthen out. Feel the top of your head relax into the pillow.
Let it all get further away. Let the dark be ordinary.
Softer. Just the dark. Let the room get slightly further away.
It is designed to fit around other people’s schedules.
I will stop here. The quiet will carry on without the words.
12 paragraphs, roughly 2 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for sea, simple.
If this story does not settle you, try A hotel room somewhere (a sleep story), when you want to be left alone — for a racing mind, Sleep story: a lake before dawn, when you have already had a long week — for a racing mind or A lighthouse at the end of a long day — a slow story for the end of the day, if you are sceptical about all of this — for a restless night.