Sleep story · quiet, books
A library at closing time (a sleep story), when nothing else has worked today — for a racing mind
The last hour, when the lights go down row by row.
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
The last of the day's light is going out of the high windows. A book lies open on the next table, face down, which is technically not allowed. The windows are dark enough now to reflect the room back at you.
The reading room you are in has one lamp left on, and it is the one above your table. Your own book is heavy in your hands, and you have stopped reading it. The library closed twenty minutes ago, and the staff are working along the far shelves, switching off sections.
Let your breathing get slower without deciding to slow it. Let the space between your eyebrows smooth out.
Feel your wrists loosen. Let your thumbs rest where they landed.
Someone is pushing a trolley two rows away, and you can hear each wheel separately. The air smells of paper, dust and floor polish.
Let your forehead go cool and smooth. Let your thighs be as heavy as they want to be.
Let your upper arms fall wherever gravity puts them. Let everything you were holding today stay on the floor beside the bed.
The clock above the door is the old kind, with a second hand that moves in small jumps. There is a trolley of returned books beside the desk, waiting to be put back.
Notice the difference between a thought and the space around it. If you're judging your performance, that's the same habit as judging everything else.
Notice your hips, wide and settled. Your jaw can drop slightly. Let your teeth part.
Nothing needs deciding tonight. Let your breathing do the rest.
Let the sound of this go soft at the edges. Let the next part go past without you. Let the thoughts come and go without you getting up to answer.
Nothing else has worked today. That is not a reason to skip this.
No more sentences. Just the weight of you in the bed.
14 paragraphs, roughly 2 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for quiet, books.
If this story does not settle you, try A boat at anchor (a sleep story), if you are sceptical about all of this — for an overtired night, Sleep story: the house after everyone is asleep, if you are sceptical about all of this — for winding down or A boat at anchor — a slow story for the end of the day, when you are too tired to try hard — for winding down.