Sleep story · travel, anonymous
Sleep story: a bus at night, on a day that started badly — for winding down
Upper deck, front seat, a city going past that you do not have to join.
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
You are on the top deck of the last bus, in the front seat, with the whole window to yourself. Outside, someone is walking a dog that does not want to be out. There is a long stretch of road ahead with nothing on it.
A streetlight passes across the ceiling every few seconds. There are four other people downstairs and nobody up here. The heating comes through the floor and makes your feet warm.
Let everything you were holding today stay on the floor beside the bed. Your ankles can go loose now.
Your jaw can drop slightly. Let your teeth part. Let your forearms get heavy and warm.
The bus stops and starts with a slow, heavy movement. Your ticket is on the seat beside you, already used.
Notice how much of you has already stopped moving. Feel the top of your head relax into the pillow.
Let your toes stop holding on to anything. Let the pillow take the whole weight of your head.
The lights inside are the dim blue kind that buses use at night. The city goes past below you, shopfronts and bus stops and people waiting for other buses.
Your chest can be still now. Let your shoulder blades spread out and drop.
The driver takes the corners slowly, as if the bus were full. You do not have to get off for another twenty minutes.
Feel the weight of the blanket on your legs. Your eyelids can be too heavy to open, and that is fine.
There are four other people downstairs and nobody up here. You are on the top deck of the last bus, in the front seat, with the whole window to yourself.
Let your breathing get slower without deciding to slow it. Feel your belly rise and fall without any help from you.
The heating comes through the floor and makes your feet warm. The lights inside are the dim blue kind that buses use at night.
If your mind is quiet, don't grab at it. Quiet comes and goes too. If you're bored, stay with the boredom for a moment. It's usually thinner than it looks.
Your fingers can stop doing anything at all. Your elbows can stop being hinges for now.
Just the breath. Follow the breath out, and let the next one arrive by itself.
Let it all get further away. Let the quiet be boring. Let your attention settle somewhere low, like your feet.
You do not have to count them. Slower. Let the sound of this go soft at the edges.
A day that started badly does not have to stay that way.
The room is dark, the day is finished, and nothing is required of you.
21 paragraphs, roughly 3 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for travel, anonymous.
If this story does not settle you, try Sleep story: the night train, when you are somewhere unfamiliar — for waking too early, An attic room, if you are doing this instead of scrolling — for waking too early or A garden in the rain (a sleep story), when you are too tired to try hard — for winding down.