Sleep story · travel, anonymous
A hotel room somewhere (a sleep story), when you are somewhere noisy — for an overtired night
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
There is a bottle of water on the bedside table with the cap already loosened. The curtains are heavy and close properly, which is rarer than it should be. The bathroom light is off, and the fan has finally stopped.
The pillow is slightly too soft, and you fold it in half, which fixes it. There is a small card on the desk with the breakfast times on it, which do not matter tonight. The bed has been turned down, and the sheets are cool on the side you have not been lying on.
Let your thighs be as heavy as they want to be. Your fingers can stop doing anything at all.
Feel the weight of your head on the pillow. Let the pillow take the whole weight of your head.
Your case is open on the luggage rack, half unpacked. The carpet is the colour of weak coffee and absorbs every sound.
Let your palms open if they were closed. Notice the places where your body touches the bed, and let them be heavy.
Your eyelids can be too heavy to open, and that is fine. Let the space between your eyebrows smooth out.
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.
Notice how much of you has already stopped moving. Feel one shoulder go heavy, then the other.
A tram goes past below, and you hear it before you see it. Nobody in this city knows where you are, and that is restful.
Feel your wrists loosen. Let the mattress take all of it.
The carpet is the colour of weak coffee and absorbs every sound. A tram goes past below, and you hear it before you see it.
Feel the back of your knees soften into the bed. Your ankles can go loose now.
The bathroom light is off, and the fan has finally stopped. Nobody in this city knows where you are, and that is restful.
Notice any urge to check something. You can wait two more minutes. If you're replaying a conversation, let it play. It'll finish on its own.
Let your calves spread out and flatten. Feel your belly rise and fall without any help from you.
Leave it there. The words can start to blur now.
Let the next part go past without you. Let each breath be a little smaller than the last. Let the thoughts come and go without you getting up to answer.
Nothing needs deciding tonight. Softer. Let the room get slightly further away.
Noise is fine. You are not trying to hear anything subtle.
Let the words go now, and take the quiet with you.
21 paragraphs, roughly 4 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for travel, anonymous.
If this story does not settle you, try A hotel room somewhere (a sleep story), when you cannot concentrate on anything else — for the hours after a late shift, A lighthouse at the end of a long day — a slow story for the end of the day, when you have already had a long week — for the hours after a late shift or Sleep story: a fire dying down, when you need something unremarkable — for a night when you do not want to think.