Sleep story · still, water

A lake before dawn (a sleep story), after a long day — for a restless night

Flat water, no wind, and light that has not arrived yet.

Lights off. Press begin and let the story read itself to you, at the pace of sleep.

Read it myself

Screen on or off — we suggest dimming it, or simply closing your eyes after the first paragraph.

The story, in full

A single bird crosses the water low and slow, without calling. There is a coil of rope on the deck, still damp from yesterday. Somewhere behind you, a gate opens and closes.

The air is cold in a clean way, and smells of water and cut grass. Nothing on the lake is in a hurry, including you. There is a wooden jetty a few metres out, with one plank that has gone grey and soft.

Feel your heartbeat somewhere far away. Your fingers can stop doing anything at all.

Let your shoulder blades spread out and drop. Your jaw can drop slightly. Let your teeth part.

The water makes a small sound against the posts, once every few seconds. Your boat is tied up and moving just enough to be noticeable.

Feel your cheeks let go. Feel your belly rise and fall without any help from you.

Notice how you're sitting. Adjust if you need to. Then settle again. If you feel numb, that's a valid thing to feel. Nothing to fix.

Let everything you were holding today stay on the floor beside the bed. Let the mattress take all of it.

Just the dark. Let each breath be a little smaller than the last.

Nothing needs deciding tonight. Let the next part go past without you. Let your breathing do the rest.

Use it at the end of a long day, not at the start of one.

Let this be the last thing you listen to.

12 paragraphs, roughly 2 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for still, water.