Sleep story · cozy, rain
An attic room (a sleep story), when the weather has kept you inside — for jet lag
Sloping ceiling, rain on the roof a foot above your head.
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 bed is pushed into the low corner, which makes it feel like a den. There is a box of things under the eaves that nobody has opened in years. There is a dormer window with a deep sill, and a mug left on it from last night.
The rain on the roof tiles is much closer and louder up here than anywhere else in the house. The room is in the roof, and the ceiling slopes so steeply that you have to duck near the window. The radiator is small and makes a ticking sound as it cools.
Your eyelids can be too heavy to open, and that is fine. Notice your hips, wide and settled.
Let your hands be completely still. Let your forearms get heavy and warm.
The rain changes intensity every few minutes and never quite stops. The roof is holding, and the rain is outside, and that is the whole arrangement.
Notice how much of you has already stopped moving. Feel your wrists loosen.
Your ankles can go loose now. Notice the places where your body touches the bed, and let them be heavy.
The lamp is on the floor beside the bed because there is no room for a table. A carrier bag of shopping is still on the chair, unpacked.
Let your feet get heavy first. Heavier than they need to be. Let your forehead go cool and smooth.
The air up here is warmer than downstairs and smells of old wood. The floorboards are bare and slightly uneven, and one of them always creaks.
Let your breathing get slower without deciding to slow it. Let your thighs be as heavy as they want to be.
If you're sleepy, sit up a little. Or let the sleepiness be there. Your mind will leave about a hundred times. Come back about a hundred times.
Feel the back of your knees soften into the bed. Let your palms open if they were closed.
Let it all get further away. They will find their own way out.
Nothing here needs following closely. Sleep. Just the weight.
Let your breathing do the rest. Nothing needs deciding tonight. Let the breath be the only thing you are doing.
Bad weather is a decent excuse to stay in and do this.
I will stop here. The quiet will carry on without the words.
18 paragraphs, roughly 3 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for cozy, rain.
If this story does not settle you, try A bus at night (a sleep story), after a difficult conversation — for jet lag, The house after everyone is asleep (a sleep story), when you have been putting it off — for an overtired night or The house after everyone is asleep, when you need to stop thinking about work — for an overtired night.