Sleep story · cozy, rain
An attic room (a sleep story), when you have been putting it off — for a racing mind
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
A carrier bag of shopping is still on the chair, unpacked. There is a box of things under the eaves that nobody has opened in years. The roof is holding, and the rain is outside, and that is the whole arrangement.
The room is in the roof, and the ceiling slopes so steeply that you have to duck near the window. There is a dormer window with a deep sill, and a mug left on it from last night. The rain changes intensity every few minutes and never quite stops.
Let your shoulder blades spread out and drop. Feel the back of your knees soften into the bed.
Your elbows can stop being hinges for now. Notice your hips, wide and settled.
The lamp is on the floor beside the bed because there is no room for a table. The rain on the roof tiles is much closer and louder up here than anywhere else in the house.
Let your forearms get heavy and warm. Your ankles can go loose now.
Let everything you were holding today stay on the floor beside the bed. Let your thighs be as heavy as they want to be.
The floorboards are bare and slightly uneven, and one of them always creaks. The air up here is warmer than downstairs and smells of old wood.
Let your thumbs rest where they landed. Let the back of your neck lengthen out.
The bed is pushed into the low corner, which makes it feel like a den. The radiator is small and makes a ticking sound as it cools.
Feel your cheeks let go. Notice the places where your body touches the bed, and let them be heavy.
The roof is holding, and the rain is outside, and that is the whole arrangement. There is a dormer window with a deep sill, and a mug left on it from last night.
Feel your heels sink a little into the mattress. Feel the weight of the blanket on your legs.
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.
Notice any urge to check something. You can wait two more minutes. Notice anything you're holding onto from earlier today.
Let your breathing get slower without deciding to slow it. Feel your wrists loosen.
Let your attention settle somewhere low, like your feet. Leave it there.
Stay with the weight of your body. You can stop listening properly. Slower.
The words can start to blur now. Just the weight. Let your breathing do the rest.
You have been putting this off. Starting is the only step that matters.
The room is dark, the day is finished, and nothing is required of you.
21 paragraphs, roughly 4 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for cozy, rain.
If this story does not settle you, try A kitchen late at night, when you have just finished work — for the hours after a late shift, A garden in the rain (a sleep story), when the house is busy — for an overtired night or Sleep story: a hotel room somewhere, when you are short on time — for jet lag.