Sleep story · still, water
A lake before dawn, when you only have a few minutes — for waking too early
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
A single bird crosses the water low and slow, without calling. The water makes a small sound against the posts, once every few seconds. Nothing on the lake is in a hurry, including you.
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. The sky is the colour of unpolished pewter.
Let your toes stop holding on to anything. Feel your cheeks let go.
Let the pillow take the whole weight of your head. Feel one shoulder go heavy, then the other.
There is a wooden jetty a few metres out, with one plank that has gone grey and soft. Somewhere behind you, a gate opens and closes.
Let everything you were holding today stay on the floor beside the bed. Your jaw can drop slightly. Let your teeth part.
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.
The mist sits about a foot above the surface and does not move. The lake is completely flat, the way it only gets in the hour before the light comes.
If you're counting the minutes, that's fine. Count them and come back. Notice anything you're holding onto from earlier today.
Let your shoulder blades spread out and drop. Feel the top of your head relax into the pillow.
Just the dark. Just the breath.
Nothing needs deciding tonight. The words can start to blur now. Let the quiet be boring.
A few minutes is the whole requirement.
No more sentences. Just the weight of you in the bed.
14 paragraphs, roughly 2 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for still, water.
If this story does not settle you, try A caravan by the sea — a slow story for the end of the day, before you go back to something hard — for an overtired night, Sleep story: the house after everyone is asleep, when you have tried everything else — for a racing mind or Sleep story: a garden in the rain, if you have done this a hundred times — for winding down.