Sleep story · rain, green
A garden in the rain, when you need to stop thinking about work — for an overtired night
Steady rain on leaves, and a chair under an awning that stays dry.
Reading it yourself. Back to the audio version.
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. The path has gone darker where it is wet, and there are two small puddles near the step.
The earth smells the way it does after a long dry spell. There is a wooden bench that nobody has sat on for an hour. The watering can by the tap is full and nobody needs it.
Feel your belly rise and fall without any help from you. Let your forehead go cool and smooth.
Let your ribs stop working so hard. Let your thighs be as heavy as they want to be.
The rain on the roof of the awning is a lower sound than the rain on the leaves. Somewhere in the hedge, a bird is sitting it out.
Let your palms open if they were closed. Let your thumbs rest where they landed.
Notice if you're waiting for something to happen. Nothing is scheduled. If you feel numb, that's a valid thing to feel. Nothing to fix.
Now feel your whole body at once, lying here, being held up. Let your toes stop holding on to anything.
Let it all get further away. Let the room get slightly further away.
They will find their own way out. Leave it there. Sleep.
Work thoughts are allowed to be there. They just do not get to drive.
There is nothing more to follow. Let the rest happen on its own.