Sleep story · sea, simple
A caravan by the sea, when you are not sure this will work — for winding down
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
A clock on the wall ticks with a slight rattle on every second. The whole caravan smells of salt, gas and clean bedding. The sea is about fifty metres away, over a bank of shingle.
There is a gas ring, a kettle, and two cups, one of which is a different pattern. The curtains are thin, and the moon makes a pale rectangle on the floor. The caravan rocks very slightly in the wind, which is more comforting than it sounds.
Let the pillow take the whole weight of your head. Notice how much of you has already stopped moving.
Let your palms open if they were closed. Let your upper arms fall wherever gravity puts them.
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.
Feel your wrists loosen. Let your lower back sink down into the mattress.
Your chest can be still now. Feel the back of your knees soften into the bed.
The window over the sink has a small crack in the corner that has been there for years. Everything you need is within two metres of where you are lying.
Feel your cheeks let go. Feel the weight of your head on the pillow.
There is a torch by the door in case you need to walk to the toilets in the night. You can hear the shingle moving as the waves pull back.
Feel your heels sink a little into the mattress. Feel the weight of the blanket on your legs.
Notice if you're waiting for something to happen. Nothing is scheduled. If you feel restless, that's a feeling, not a failure.
Your fingers can stop doing anything at all. Now feel your whole body at once, lying here, being held up.
Let the next part go past without you. Let them.
Sleep. You do not have to count them. Let the quiet be boring.
Let it all get further away. Let the thoughts come and go without you getting up to answer. Nothing here needs following closely.
Not being sure it will work is a perfectly good reason to try it once.
The room is dark, the day is finished, and nothing is required of you.
18 paragraphs, roughly 3 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for sea, simple.