Sleep story · still, water
A lake before dawn, when you are at home and cannot settle — for the hours after a late shift
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.
Screen on or off — we suggest dimming it, or simply closing your eyes after the first paragraph.
The story, in full
Somewhere behind you, a gate opens and closes. A single bird crosses the water low and slow, without calling. The water makes a small sound against the posts, once every few seconds.
The sky is the colour of unpolished pewter. The mist sits about a foot above the surface and does not move. Nothing on the lake is in a hurry, including you.
Notice the places where your body touches the bed, and let them be heavy. Feel the weight of the blanket on your legs.
Let your forehead go cool and smooth. Let your thighs be as heavy as they want to be.
Your boat is tied up and moving just enough to be noticeable. The far shore is a dark line with no detail in it yet.
Let your ribs stop working so hard. Let your breathing get slower without deciding to slow it.
If you feel numb, that's a valid thing to feel. Nothing to fix. Notice if you're being hard on yourself about any of this.
Let your tongue sit heavy in your mouth. Let your upper arms fall wherever gravity puts them.
Slower now. Let the thoughts come and go without you getting up to answer.
The words can start to blur now. Sleep. Just the weight.
Being at home and unable to settle is a very specific problem.
The end. Sleep well.
12 paragraphs, roughly 2 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for still, water.
If this story does not settle you, try A garden in the rain (a sleep story), if you are tired of apps — for a racing mind, The night train — a slow story for the end of the day, if you have done this a hundred times — for a restless night or The house after everyone is asleep, when you need to stop thinking about work — for waking too early.