Sleep story · cozy, rain
An attic room (a sleep story), when the weather has kept you inside — for the hours after a late shift
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 radiator is small and makes a ticking sound as it cools. The bed is pushed into the low corner, which makes it feel like a den. A carrier bag of shopping is still on the chair, unpacked.
The rain changes intensity every few minutes and never quite stops. The floorboards are bare and slightly uneven, and one of them always creaks. The room is in the roof, and the ceiling slopes so steeply that you have to duck near the window.
Feel your heartbeat somewhere far away. Notice the places where your body touches the bed, and let them be heavy.
Let the pillow take the whole weight of your head. Your chest can be still now.
The air up here is warmer than downstairs and smells of old wood. There is a dormer window with a deep sill, and a mug left on it from last night.
Let everything you were holding today stay on the floor beside the bed. Let your palms open if they were closed.
Let your toes stop holding on to anything. Your fingers can stop doing anything at all.
There is a box of things under the eaves that nobody has opened in years. The rain on the roof tiles is much closer and louder up here than anywhere else in the house.
Let your calves spread out and flatten. Let your lower back sink down into the mattress.
The lamp is on the floor beside the bed because there is no room for a table. The roof is holding, and the rain is outside, and that is the whole arrangement.
Let your forehead go cool and smooth. Let your ribs stop working so hard.
If you feel emotional, you don't have to explain it to anyone, including yourself. If you're bored, stay with the boredom for a moment. It's usually thinner than it looks.
Let your breathing get slower without deciding to slow it. Feel one shoulder go heavy, then the other.
Sleep. You do not have to count them.
Leave it there. Let the breath be the only thing you are doing. Nothing here needs following closely.
They will find their own way out. Just the weight. Let the quiet be boring.
Bad weather is a decent excuse to stay in and do this.
The end. Sleep well.
18 paragraphs, roughly 3 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for cozy, rain.
If this story does not settle you, try A hotel room somewhere, when you are on your own — for jet lag, Sleep story: a garden in the rain, when the day has been loud — for jet lag or A bus at night — a slow story for the end of the day, when you are somewhere unfamiliar — for a racing mind.