Sleep story · still, water
A lake before dawn — a slow story for the end of the day, when you are waiting for something — for a racing mind
Flat water, no wind, and light that has not arrived yet.
Reading it yourself. Back to the audio version.
A single bird crosses the water low and slow, without calling. Somewhere behind you, a gate opens and closes. There is a wooden jetty a few metres out, with one plank that has gone grey and soft.
The mist sits about a foot above the surface and does not move. Nothing on the lake is in a hurry, including you. The lake is completely flat, the way it only gets in the hour before the light comes.
Feel your wrists loosen. Feel one shoulder go heavy, then the other.
Let your calves spread out and flatten. Let your shoulder blades spread out and drop.
The far shore is a dark line with no detail in it yet. There is a coil of rope on the deck, still damp from yesterday.
Let your forehead go cool and smooth. Let your lower back sink down into the mattress.
Feel the weight of your head on the pillow. Let your forearms get heavy and warm.
The water makes a small sound against the posts, once every few seconds. The air is cold in a clean way, and smells of water and cut grass.
Notice the places where your body touches the bed, and let them be heavy. Let your feet get heavy first. Heavier than they need to be.
Your boat is tied up and moving just enough to be noticeable. The sky is the colour of unpolished pewter.
Feel the top of your head relax into the pillow. Feel your heels sink a little into the mattress.
Notice how quickly your mind labels things: good, bad, boring, nice. If a worry shows up, name it quietly and let it sit beside you.
Let your hands be completely still. Feel your heartbeat somewhere far away.
Let the thoughts come and go without you getting up to answer. Let the room get slightly further away.
You can stop listening properly. Let the breath be the only thing you are doing. Just the dark.
Let your attention settle somewhere low, like your feet. The words can start to blur now. You do not have to count them.
Waiting is dead time you can spend on this instead.
No more sentences. Just the weight of you in the bed.