Sleep story: a bus at night, when you are on your own — for a night when you do not want to think

The story, in full

You do not have to get off for another twenty minutes. The city goes past below you, shopfronts and bus stops and people waiting for other buses. Outside, someone is walking a dog that does not want to be out.

There are four other people downstairs and nobody up here. There is a long stretch of road ahead with nothing on it. Your ticket is on the seat beside you, already used.

Let the back of your neck lengthen out. Let your thighs be as heavy as they want to be.

Let your toes stop holding on to anything. Now feel your whole body at once, lying here, being held up.

A streetlight passes across the ceiling every few seconds. The bus stops and starts with a slow, heavy movement.

Notice the places where your body touches the bed, and let them be heavy. Let your shoulder blades spread out and drop.

Notice any part of you that wants this to be over. Notice the moment you realise you've drifted. That moment is the whole skill.

Let your lower back sink down into the mattress. Feel one shoulder go heavy, then the other.

Slower now. Let the room get slightly further away.

Let your attention settle somewhere low, like your feet. Let the breath be the only thing you are doing. Softer.

Being on your own is not required, but it does make this simpler.

No more sentences. Just the weight of you in the bed.

12 paragraphs, roughly 2 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for travel, anonymous.