Sleep story · rain, green
A garden in the rain (a sleep story), when your attention is scattered — for a restless night
Steady rain on leaves, and a chair under an awning that stays dry.
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 wooden bench that nobody has sat on for an hour. The leaves in the border are dark and glossy and moving slightly. Under the awning it is dry, and the sound is a steady, unhurried patter.
A snail is making its way along the bottom of the wall, going nowhere in particular. The watering can by the tap is full and nobody needs it. The rain on the roof of the awning is a lower sound than the rain on the leaves.
Your ankles can go loose now. Let your thighs be as heavy as they want to be.
Let the back of your neck lengthen out. Let the space between your eyebrows smooth out.
The rain has settled into the kind that will last all afternoon without getting heavier. There is nothing to do about any of it, which is the good part.
Let your hands be completely still. Let your feet get heavy first. Heavier than they need to be.
Now feel your whole body at once, lying here, being held up. Let the mattress take all of it.
Somewhere in the hedge, a bird is sitting it out. Water runs off the gutter in a thin, continuous line.
Feel the weight of the blanket on your legs. Let your toes stop holding on to anything.
The earth smells the way it does after a long dry spell. The path has gone darker where it is wet, and there are two small puddles near the step.
Let your forehead go cool and smooth. Feel one shoulder go heavy, then the other.
Water runs off the gutter in a thin, continuous line. The leaves in the border are dark and glossy and moving slightly.
Feel your wrists loosen. Feel the weight of your head on the pillow.
There is nothing to do about any of it, which is the good part. The rain has settled into the kind that will last all afternoon without getting heavier.
If you're irritated, that's allowed. Irritation is just weather. If you feel emotional, you don't have to explain it to anyone, including yourself.
Let your forearms get heavy and warm. Notice how much of you has already stopped moving.
Slower now. Let the sound of this go soft at the edges.
Let the dark be ordinary. Let the room get slightly further away. Let it all get further away.
Slower. Sleep. You can stop listening properly.
Scattered attention is the raw material, not an obstacle.
Goodnight. There is nothing left to do.
21 paragraphs, roughly 3 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for rain, green.