Sleep story · warm, home
A kitchen late at night (a sleep story), when you have just finished work — for a racing mind
One small light on, a cooling cup of tea, and the rest of the house dark.
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 kitchen is warm, and the small light over the hob is the only one on. The fridge motor stops, and the room gets even quieter. There is a bowl of fruit nobody has touched since Tuesday.
The tiles under your feet are cold in one corner and warm in another. Someone upstairs turns over, and the ceiling creaks once. The clock on the oven shows a time that feels later than it is.
Let your forearms get heavy and warm. Feel your heels sink a little into the mattress.
Let your lower back sink down into the mattress. Your elbows can stop being hinges for now.
There is a cup of tea beside you that has gone past drinking temperature. Your chair is pulled out slightly, the way you left it.
Let your thighs be as heavy as they want to be. Let your ribs stop working so hard.
If a song is stuck in your head, let it play in the background. If nothing much is happening, that's not a problem. Nothing much is often the point.
Let the back of your neck lengthen out. Notice your hips, wide and settled.
Softer. Follow the breath out, and let the next one arrive by itself.
Slower now. They will find their own way out. Let the room get slightly further away.
The gap right after work is the easiest one to use.
That is the end of the story. Sleep is the next part, and it does not need instructions.
12 paragraphs, roughly 2 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for warm, home.
If this story does not settle you, try A garden in the rain (a sleep story), when you are somewhere noisy — for winding down, A lake before dawn (a sleep story), when you need something unremarkable — for waking too early or The house after everyone is asleep, when you need to stop thinking about work — for an overtired night.