Sleep story · travel, anonymous
A hotel room somewhere (a sleep story), when you cannot concentrate on anything else — for a night when you do not want to think
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 carpet is the colour of weak coffee and absorbs every sound. There is a bottle of water on the bedside table with the cap already loosened. Nobody in this city knows where you are, and that is restful.
A tram goes past below, and you hear it before you see it. The curtains are heavy and close properly, which is rarer than it should be. Your case is open on the luggage rack, half unpacked.
Feel the back of your knees soften into the bed. Let your thighs be as heavy as they want to be.
Let your thumbs rest where they landed. Let your calves spread out and flatten.
The room is on the fourth floor, and the window looks out onto a street with one lit shop. The air conditioning makes a low sound that you will stop noticing within a minute.
Notice your hips, wide and settled. Let the back of your neck lengthen out.
Let everything you were holding today stay on the floor beside the bed. Let the mattress take all of it.
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.
Now feel your whole body at once, lying here, being held up. Let your tongue sit heavy in your mouth.
The bed has been turned down, and the sheets are cool on the side you have not been lying on. The bathroom light is off, and the fan has finally stopped.
Let your palms open if they were closed. Feel the weight of your head on the pillow.
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.
Let your ribs stop working so hard. Let your lower back sink down into the mattress.
There is a small card on the desk with the breakfast times on it, which do not matter tonight. The room is on the fourth floor, and the window looks out onto a street with one lit shop.
Notice any tension that arrived while you weren't looking. If your mind is quiet, don't grab at it. Quiet comes and goes too.
Your fingers can stop doing anything at all. Feel your cheeks let go.
The words can start to blur now. Let the thoughts come and go without you getting up to answer.
Softer. Let the room get slightly further away. Let the next part go past without you.
Let them. Sleep. Stay.
When concentration is gone, work with what is left.
There is nothing more to follow. Let the rest happen on its own.
21 paragraphs, roughly 4 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for travel, anonymous.
If this story does not settle you, try A fire dying down (a sleep story), when you are doing this for the first time — for jet lag, A bus at night, if you are fitting this around other people — for the hours after a late shift or A bus at night — a slow story for the end of the day, when you are too tired to try hard — for a racing mind.