Sleep story · sea, simple
A caravan by the sea, if you have done this a hundred times — for a restless 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
The wind pushes against the side of the caravan in long, slow gusts. Everything you need is within two metres of where you are lying. The caravan rocks very slightly in the wind, which is more comforting than it sounds.
There is a gas ring, a kettle, and two cups, one of which is a different pattern. 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.
Let your lower back sink down into the mattress. Let your thumbs rest where they landed.
Feel the top of your head relax into the pillow. Let your toes stop holding on to anything.
The whole caravan smells of salt, gas and clean bedding. You can hear the shingle moving as the waves pull back.
Feel your wrists loosen. Let your ribs stop working so hard.
Let the pillow take the whole weight of your head. Feel your belly rise and fall without any help from you.
The sea is about fifty metres away, over a bank of shingle. The bed folds out of the seating area and takes up most of the floor.
Let the back of your neck lengthen out. Feel your cheeks let go.
The curtains are thin, and the moon makes a pale rectangle on the floor. There is a torch by the door in case you need to walk to the toilets in the night.
Feel the back of your knees soften into the bed. Let your shoulder blades spread out and drop.
Your mind will leave about a hundred times. Come back about a hundred times. Notice any urge to check something. You can wait two more minutes.
Your eyelids can be too heavy to open, and that is fine. Let your hands be completely still.
Let the sound of this go soft at the edges. Almost nothing to do now.
Slower. Let the thoughts come and go without you getting up to answer. They will find their own way out.
You do not have to count them. Let the next part go past without you. Let it all get further away.
If you have done this a hundred times, change one small thing tonight.
The end. Sleep well.
18 paragraphs, roughly 3 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for sea, simple.
If this story does not settle you, try A lake before dawn (a sleep story), if you are doing this in the middle of the day — for jet lag, A kitchen late at night (a sleep story), when you are cold and want to be warm — for jet lag or A library at closing time, when you have more time than usual — for winding down.