Sleep story · still, water
A lake before dawn, when you only have a few minutes — for an overtired 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.
Screen on or off — we suggest dimming it, or simply closing your eyes after the first paragraph.
The story, in full
Your boat is tied up and moving just enough to be noticeable. There is a wooden jetty a few metres out, with one plank that has gone grey and soft. A single bird crosses the water low and slow, without calling.
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. The far shore is a dark line with no detail in it yet.
Let your breathing get slower without deciding to slow it. Your chest can be still now.
Let the mattress take all of it. Feel the top of your head relax into the pillow.
The sky is the colour of unpolished pewter. There is a coil of rope on the deck, still damp from yesterday.
Let the pillow take the whole weight of your head. Feel the weight of your head on the pillow.
Feel your heels sink a little into the mattress. Let your forehead go cool and smooth.
The air is cold in a clean way, and smells of water and cut grass. The water makes a small sound against the posts, once every few seconds.
If you're irritated, that's allowed. Irritation is just weather. Notice whether you're breathing or holding. Start breathing again.
Let your toes stop holding on to anything. Let your hands be completely still.
Slower now. Slower.
Just the breath. Let it all get further away. Almost nothing to do now.
A few minutes is the whole requirement.
Let the words go now, and take the quiet with you.
14 paragraphs, roughly 2 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for still, water.
If this story does not settle you, try Sleep story: a field under snow, when you are cold and want to be warm — for a night when you do not want to think, Sleep story: a caravan by the sea, when you have more time than usual — for an overtired night or A boat at anchor, when you want to be left alone — for waking too early.