Sleep story · travel, anonymous
A hotel room somewhere (a sleep story), when you are somewhere noisy — for a racing mind
A room you did not choose, in a city you do not have to know.
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 bed has been turned down, and the sheets are cool on the side you have not been lying on. There is a bottle of water on the bedside table with the cap already loosened. Your case is open on the luggage rack, half unpacked.
A tram goes past below, and you hear it before you see it. The air conditioning makes a low sound that you will stop noticing within a minute. The room is on the fourth floor, and the window looks out onto a street with one lit shop.
Feel the back of your knees soften into the bed. Let your forearms get heavy and warm.
Let your upper arms fall wherever gravity puts them. Let your thighs be as heavy as they want to be.
Nobody in this city knows where you are, and that is restful. The carpet is the colour of weak coffee and absorbs every sound.
Let your tongue sit heavy in your mouth. Feel your belly rise and fall without any help from you.
Feel your heartbeat somewhere far away. Now feel your whole body at once, lying here, being held up.
The pillow is slightly too soft, and you fold it in half, which fixes it. The curtains are heavy and close properly, which is rarer than it should be.
Let everything you were holding today stay on the floor beside the bed. Your eyelids can be too heavy to open, and that is fine.
The bathroom light is off, and the fan has finally stopped. There is a small card on the desk with the breakfast times on it, which do not matter tonight.
Let the mattress take all of it. Let your breathing get slower without deciding to slow it.
There is a small card on the desk with the breakfast times on it, which do not matter tonight. The pillow is slightly too soft, and you fold it in half, which fixes it.
Notice the places where your body touches the bed, and let them be heavy. Feel your heels sink a little into the mattress.
The air conditioning makes a low sound that you will stop noticing within a minute. A tram goes past below, and you hear it before you see it.
Notice whether you're breathing or holding. Start breathing again. If you're replaying a conversation, let it play. It'll finish on its own.
Feel the top of your head relax into the pillow. Let your forehead go cool and smooth.
Nothing here needs following closely. Softer.
Let the quiet be boring. Leave it there. Let the thoughts come and go without you getting up to answer.
The words can start to blur now. Stay with the weight of your body. Let your attention settle somewhere low, like your feet.
Noise is fine. You are not trying to hear anything subtle.
I will stop here. The quiet will carry on without the words.
21 paragraphs, roughly 4 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for travel, anonymous.
If this story does not settle you, try A lake before dawn — a slow story for the end of the day, after a difficult conversation — for a racing mind, A library at closing time, when you feel fine and want to stay that way — for a racing mind or A bus at night — a slow story for the end of the day, when you want to be left alone — for a restless night.