Sleep story · rain, green
A garden in the rain — a slow story for the end of the day, if you are new to this — for the hours after a late shift
Steady rain on leaves, and a chair under an awning that stays dry.
Reading it yourself. Back to the audio version.
The rain on the roof of the awning is a lower sound than the rain on the leaves. The earth smells the way it does after a long dry spell. Somewhere in the hedge, a bird is sitting it out.
Water runs off the gutter in a thin, continuous line. 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.
Notice how much of you has already stopped moving. Your chest can be still now.
Feel the weight of the blanket on your legs. Let your lower back sink down into the mattress.
The watering can by the tap is full and nobody needs it. The rain has settled into the kind that will last all afternoon without getting heavier.
Let your tongue sit heavy in your mouth. Let your thighs be as heavy as they want to be.
If you're bored, stay with the boredom for a moment. It's usually thinner than it looks. If nothing much is happening, that's not a problem. Nothing much is often the point.
Let your forehead go cool and smooth. Let the mattress take all of it.
Slower now. Leave it there.
Let the quiet be boring. Let the next part go past without you. Stay.
Nothing here assumes you have done this before.
There is nothing more to follow. Let the rest happen on its own.