Sleep story · sea, simple
A caravan by the sea, when you are at home and cannot settle — 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
The whole caravan smells of salt, gas and clean bedding. 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.
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. Everything you need is within two metres of where you are lying.
Now feel your whole body at once, lying here, being held up. Let your palms open if they were closed.
Let your ribs stop working so hard. Feel your cheeks let go.
The window over the sink has a small crack in the corner that has been there for years. The bed folds out of the seating area and takes up most of the floor.
Let your tongue sit heavy in your mouth. Your ankles can go loose now.
Let the back of your neck lengthen out. Let your upper arms fall wherever gravity puts them.
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.
Your eyelids can be too heavy to open, and that is fine. Feel your heels sink a little into the mattress.
The wind pushes against the side of the caravan in long, slow gusts. The caravan rocks very slightly in the wind, which is more comforting than it sounds.
Your fingers can stop doing anything at all. Let your thighs be as heavy as they want to be.
The bed folds out of the seating area and takes up most of the floor. There is a gas ring, a kettle, and two cups, one of which is a different pattern.
Let everything you were holding today stay on the floor beside the bed. Notice your hips, wide and settled.
You can hear the shingle moving as the waves pull back. The sea is about fifty metres away, over a bank of shingle.
Notice any urge to check something. You can wait two more minutes. If you're sleepy, sit up a little. Or let the sleepiness be there.
Let the space between your eyebrows smooth out. Feel the back of your knees soften into the bed.
Slower. Stay with the weight of your body.
Sleep. Leave it there. Let the quiet be boring.
Just the dark. Let it all get further away. Let the next part go past without you.
Being at home and unable to settle is a very specific problem.
Let this be the last thing you listen to.
21 paragraphs, roughly 3 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for sea, simple.
If this story does not settle you, try A fire dying down — a slow story for the end of the day, when you feel fine and want to stay that way — for an overtired night, A garden in the rain — a slow story for the end of the day, when you are not sure this will work — for waking too early or Sleep story: a boat at anchor, after a difficult conversation — for a restless night.