Sleep story · cozy, rain
An attic room — a slow story for the end of the day, after eating too much — for an overtired night
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. The room is in the roof, and the ceiling slopes so steeply that you have to duck near the window. The rain on the roof tiles is much closer and louder up here than anywhere else in the house.
The rain changes intensity every few minutes and never quite stops. The lamp is on the floor beside the bed because there is no room for a table. The floorboards are bare and slightly uneven, and one of them always creaks.
Let your toes stop holding on to anything. Let the mattress take all of it.
Let your thighs be as heavy as they want to be. Let the space between your eyebrows smooth out.
The air up here is warmer than downstairs and smells of old wood. There is a box of things under the eaves that nobody has opened in years.
Let your ribs stop working so hard. Feel your heartbeat somewhere far away.
Notice your hips, wide and settled. Let your thumbs rest where they landed.
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.
Your fingers can stop doing anything at all. Now feel your whole body at once, lying here, being held up.
A carrier bag of shopping is still on the chair, unpacked. The radiator is small and makes a ticking sound as it cools.
Feel your heels sink a little into the mattress. Feel your wrists loosen.
The bed is pushed into the low corner, which makes it feel like a den. The room is in the roof, and the ceiling slopes so steeply that you have to duck near the window.
Let your breathing get slower without deciding to slow it. Let your calves spread out and flatten.
If you're sleepy, sit up a little. Or let the sleepiness be there. Notice if your attention is in the future. Bring it back to the room.
Let your palms open if they were closed. Let the pillow take the whole weight of your head.
Let each breath be a little smaller than the last. Let the room get slightly further away.
Let the quiet be boring. Let the sound of this go soft at the edges. Sleep.
Slower. Just the weight. Just the breath.
Do this sitting up, not lying down, if you have just eaten.
Let everything get quiet, including this.
20 paragraphs, roughly 3 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for cozy, rain.
If this story does not settle you, try A caravan by the sea, if you have done this a hundred times — for an overtired night, The night train — a slow story for the end of the day, if you have done this a hundred times — for a restless night or A hotel room somewhere, if you are tired of apps — for a racing mind.