Sleep story · travel, anonymous
Sleep story: a bus at night, on a low-energy afternoon — for an overtired night
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
Outside, someone is walking a dog that does not want to be out. You are on the top deck of the last bus, in the front seat, with the whole window to yourself. There is a long stretch of road ahead with nothing on it.
The lights inside are the dim blue kind that buses use at night. The driver takes the corners slowly, as if the bus were full. The heating comes through the floor and makes your feet warm.
Let your forearms get heavy and warm. Let your ribs stop working so hard.
Let your toes stop holding on to anything. Let everything you were holding today stay on the floor beside the bed.
There are four other people downstairs and nobody up here. The city goes past below you, shopfronts and bus stops and people waiting for other buses.
Feel your belly rise and fall without any help from you. Your chest can be still now.
Your elbows can stop being hinges for now. Notice your hips, wide and settled.
A streetlight passes across the ceiling every few seconds. Your ticket is on the seat beside you, already used.
If you're bored, stay with the boredom for a moment. It's usually thinner than it looks. If a worry shows up, name it quietly and let it sit beside you.
Your ankles can go loose now. Let the back of your neck lengthen out.
Almost nothing to do now. Let it all get further away.
Stay with the weight of your body. Let the thoughts come and go without you getting up to answer. Nothing needs deciding tonight.
Low-energy afternoons are what this was written for.
Let this be the last thing you listen to.
14 paragraphs, roughly 2 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for travel, anonymous.